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IT  fid  E    [PAST    AKE;     T1H1E    IF  y  T  y  i  E  . 

.    ... 


/IMS  .AND  AIDS  TO  SUCCESS  /NO  HAPPINESS. 


BY 


T.    I,.   HA.HSTES,  A..  M!. 

AND 

L.  "W.   YAOGTY,   M.   S. 


Author  of  "  Our  Home  Counselor." 


REVISED    EDITION. 


SAN  FRANCISCO,   CAL.: 

LAW,  KING  &  LAW  PUBLISHING  HOUSE, 


WESTERN   PUBLISHING   HOUSE,   CHICAGO, 


1884. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year   1876,  by 

L.  W.  YAGGY   AND    T.  L.  HAINES, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at   Washington,   D.  C. 


REVISED    EDITION: 

Entered,  in  the  year  1881,  with   Right  of  Translation  reserred,  by 
L.  W.  YAOGY. 


THE  subject-matter  of  this  book,  Success  and  Hap- 
piness, has  been  the  consideration  of  every  eminent  pen, 
from  the  days  of  Solomon  to  the  present.  To  say  any 
thing  strictly  new  would  be  impossible  ;  nor  would  we 
presume  that  our  knowledge  and  experience  would  be 
as  valuable  as  the  maxims  of  the  wise  and  the  sublime 
truths  which  have  become  a  part  of  the  standard  litera- 
ture. The  best,  therefore,  that  any  one  can  expect  to 
do  is  to  recombine  the  experience  of  the  past,  and 
compile  such  thoughts  and  extracts  as  have  chimed  in 
with  the  testimony  of  earnest  and  aspiring  minds,  and 
offer  them  in  a  novel  and  fascinating  form  In  the  word? 
of  the  poet : 

"We  have  gathered  posies  from  other  men's  flowers, 
Nothing  but  the  thread  that  binds  them  is  ours." 

In  life  there  is  a  Royal  Path.  Alas  !  that  so  many 
not  being  urged  to  seek  life's  prizes,  fail  to  find  them. 
It  is  hoped  that  this  book  shall  be  a  counselor  to  those 
who  have  become  indifferent  to  life's  purposes  ;  a  comfort 
to  those  who  have  long  traveled  on  this  Royal  Path ; 
and  if  it  shall  serve  to  awaken  the  slumbering  genius 
within  the  youth,  stimulate  and  impel  them  to  noble 
thoughts  and  actions,  and  lead  them  on  to  honor,  success 
and  happiness,  the  authors  will  consider  themselves  amply 
repaid  for  their  labor. 

2091826 


"  Life  is  before  you  !  from  the  fated  road 
You  cannot  turn  ;  then  take  ye  up  the  loa-J, 
Not  yours  to  tread  or  leave  the   unknown  way, 
Ye  must  go  o'er  it,  meet  ye  what  ye  may. 
Gird  up  your  souls  within  you  to  the  deed, 
Angels  and  fellow-spirits  bid  you  speed  !  " 

—Butler 


LIFE C     7 

MAN  AND  WOMAN 14 

MOTHER 29 

CHILDREN 37 

YOUTH 42 

HOME 49 

FAMILY  WORSHIP 59 

HOME  INFLUENCE 64 

HOME  AMUSEMENTS 71 

To  YOUNG  MEN 75 

To  YOUNG  WOMEN 83 

DAUGHTER  AND  SISTER 91 

ASSOCIATES 96 

INFLUENCE .„ 103 

HABIT 105 

COMPANY in 

FORCE  OF  CHARACTER 1 14 

INTEGRITY 119 

POOR  BOYS  AND  EMINENCE 123 

OCCUPATION 130 

EMPLOYMENT 135 

TRUE  GREATNESS 138 

IDLENESS 140 

EDUCATION 145 

OPPORTUNITY 151 

SPARE  MOMENTS 154 

BOOKS 158 

READING 165 

PERSEVERANCE 1 74 

PLUCK 182 

SELF   RELIANCE 184 


LABOR igg 

ENERGY iyj 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK 201 

PURPOSE  AND  WILL 212 

COURAGE 217 

LITTLE  THINGS 223 

ECONOMY 231 

FARM  LIFE 237 

SUCCESS 242 

INDUSTRY 25O 

HONESTY 254 

CHARACTER.  . 


259 

PRINCIPLE  AND  RIGHT 264 

VALUE  OF  REPUTATION 267 

FAME 269 

AMBITION 273 

AVARICE 275 

GAMBLING 277 

TEMPER 282 

ANGER ...  286 

OBSTINACY 292 

HYPOCRISY 295 

FRETTING  AND  GRUMBLINC;  ...    .299 

FAULT  FINDING 305 

ENVY .310 

SLANDER 315 

VANITY 320 

PRIDE 322 

FOPS  AND  DANDIES „  .  .329 

FASHION. 333 

DRESS 340 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHURCH  DRESS 347 

MANNERS 349 

THE  TRUE  GENTLEMAN 357 

WIT 362 

TRUTH 365 

JUDGMENT. 370 

PATIENCE 373 

CONTENTMENT 37s 

CHEERFULNESS 384 

HAPPINESS 390 

GRATITUDE . .  393 

HOPE 396 

CHARITY 401 

KINDNESS . .  .405 

FRIENDSHIP 411 

COURTSHIP 416 

FLIRTING 422 

BACHELORS 425 

INFLUENCE  OF  MATRIMONY 428 

ADVANTAGE  OF  MATRIMONY  .  436 
YOUNG  MEN  AND  MATRIMONY.  .439 
YOUNG  LADIES  AND  MATRIMONY. 446 

LOVE 453 

MATRIMONY 461 

THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION 468 

HUSBAND  AND  WIFE 474 


JOY 4s3 

BEAUTY 430 

MUSIC 493 

HONOR 500 

GENIUS  AND  TALENT 502 

THINKERS 507 

BENEFACTORS  OR  MALEFACTORS.  .513 

TRIALS  OF  LIFE 518 

SICKNESS 522 

TEARS 525 

SORROW 528 

SORROWING  FOR  THE  DEAD  ....535 

ADVERSITY 539 

DEBT ....  543 

FAILURE 548 

DESPAIR 551 

STEPPING-STONES 553 

PRAYER 556 

THERE  is  A  GOD 561 

THE   BIBLE 564 

RELIGION 571 

DOING  GOOD 574 

WELL   DOING 5Se 

OLD  AGE 592 

DEATH 59^ 


THE 


WE  point  to  two  ways  in  life,  and  if  the  young  man 
and  maiden,  whose  feet  are  lingering-  in  soft  green 
meadows  and  flowery  paths,  will  consider  these  two 
ways  soberly  and  earnestly,  before  moving  onward, 
and  choose  the  one  that  truth  and  reason  tell  them 
leads  to  honor,  success  and  happiness,  they  have 
wisely  chosen  the  "Royal  Path  of  Life."  •  The  other 
way  is  too  well  known  to  need  description.  It  is  a 
sad  thing,  after  the  lapse  of  twenty  years,  to  find  our- 
selves amid  ruined  hopes ; — to  sit  down  with  folded 
hands  and  say,  "Thus  far  life  has  been  a  failure"! 
Yet,  to  how  many  is  this  the  wretched  summing  up 
at  the  end  of  a  single  score  of  years  from  the  time 
that  reason  takes  the  helm !  Alas !  that  so  fevy  who 
start  wrong,  ever  succeed  in  finding  the  "Royal 
Path";  life  proving,  even  to  its  last  burdened  years  a 
millstone  about  the  neck. 


g  LIFE. 

Dear  reader,  life  is  a  "Royal  Path,"  and  to  you  it 
shall  be  a  millstone  about  your  neck,  or  a  diadem  on 
your  brow.  Decide  at  once  upon  a  noble  purpose, 
then  take  it  up  bravely,  bear  it  off  joyfully,  lay  it  down 
triumphantly.  Your  greatest  inheritance  is  a  purpose 
in  pursuit  of  which  you  will  find  employment  and  hap- 
piness, for 

"The  busy  world  shoves  angrily  aside 
The  man  who  stands  with  arms  akimbo  set 
Until  occasion  tells  him  what  to  do ; 
And  he  who  waits  to  have  his  task  marked  out 
Shall  die  and  leave  his  errand  unfulfilled." 

Life  is  not  mean  —  it  is  grand.  If  it  is  mean  to  any, 
he  makes  it  so.  God  made  it  glorious.  Its  channel 
He  paved  with  diamonds.  Its  banks  He  fringed  with 
flowers.  He  overarched  it  with  stars.  Around  it  He 
spread  the  glory  of  the  physical  universe — suns,  moons, 
worlds,  constellations,  systems  —  all  that  is  magnificent 
in  motion,  sublime  in  magnitude,  and  grand  in  order 
and  obedience.  God  would  not  have  attended  life  with 
this  broad  march  of  grandeur,  if  it  did  not  mean  some- 
thing. He  would  not  have  descended  to  the  blade 
of  grass,  the  dew-drop,  and  the  dust-atom,  if  every 
moment  of  life  were  not  a  letter  to  spell  out  some  word 
that  should  bear  the  burden  of  a  thought.  How  much 
life  means,  words  refuse  to  tell,  because  they  can  not. 
The  very  doorway  of  life  is  hung  around  with  flowery 
emblems,  to  indicate  that  it  is  for  some  purpose.  T^ 
mystery  of  our  being,  the  necessity  of  action,  the  rela- 
tion of  cause  to  effect,  the  dependence  of  one  thing 
upon  another,  the  mutual  influence  and  affinity  of  all 


LIFE.  9 

things,  assure  us  that  life  is  for  a  purpose  to  which 
every  outward  thing  doth  point. 

The  trees  with  leaves  "like  a  shield  or  like  a  sword" 
wage  vigorous  warfare  with  the  elements.  They  bend 
under  the  wind,  make  music  of  it,  then  stand  up  again 
and  grow  more  stalwartly  straight  up  toward  the  heart 
of  the  heavens.  A  man  is  to  learn  of  the  oak,  and 
cling  to  his  plans  as  it  to  its  leaves  till  pushed  off  by 
new  ones;  and  be  as  tenacious  of  life,  when  lopt,  send- 
ing up  branches  straight  as  the  old  trunk,  and  when 
cut  off,  sending  up  a  brood  of  young  oaks,  crowning 
the  stump  with  vigorous  defenders.  He  that  floats 
lazily  down  the  stream,  in  pursuit  of  something  borne 
along  by  the  same  current,  will  find  himself  indeed 
moved  forward;  but  unless  he  lays  his  hand  to  the  oar, 
and  increases  his  speed  by  his  own  labor,  must  be 
always  at  the  same  distance  from  that  which  he  is  fol- 
lowing. In  our  voyage  of  life  we  must  not  drift  but. 
steer. 

Every  youth  should  form,  'at  the  outset  of  his  career, 
the  solemn  purpose  to  make  the  most  and  the  best  of 
the  powers  which  God  has  given  him,  and  to  turn  to 
the  best  possible  account  every  outward  advantage 
within  his  reach.  This  purpose  must  carry  with  it  the 
assent  of  the  reason,  the  approval  of  the  conscience, 
the  sober  judgment  of  the  intellect.  It  should  then 
embody  within  itself  whatever  is  vehement  in  desire, 
inspiring  in  hope,  thrilling  in  enthusiasm  and  intense  in 
desperate  resolve.  Such  a  plan  of  life  will  save  him 
from  many  a  damaging  contest  with  temptation.  It 
will  regulate  his  sports  and  recreations.  It  will  go- 


with  him  by  day  to  trample  under  foot  the  allurements 
of  pleasure.  It  will  hold  his  eyes  waking  as  he  toils 
by  the  evening  lamp.  It  will  watch  over  his  slumbers 
to  jog  him  at  the  appointed  hour,  and  summon  him  to 
the  cheerful  duties  of  his  chosen  pursuit.  Those  who 
labor  and  study  under  the  inspiration  of  such  a  pur- 
pose, will  soon  soar  out  of  sight  of  those  who  barely 
allow  themselves  to  be  carried  along  by  the  momen- 
tum of  the  machinery  to  which  they  are  attached. 

Many  pass  through  life  without  even  a  conscious- 
ness of  where  they  are,  and  what  they  are  doing. 
They  gaze  on  whatever  lies  directly  before  them,  "in 
fond  amusement  lost."  Human  life  is  a  watchtower. 
It  is  the  clear  purpose  of  God  that  every  one  —  the 
young  especially  —  should  take  their  stand  on  this 
tower.  Look,  listen,  learn,  wherever  you  go,  wherever 
you  tarry.  Something  is  always  transpiring  to  reward 
your  attention.  Let  your  eyes  and  ears  be  always 
open,  and  you  will  often  observe  in  the  slightest  inci- 
dents, materials  of  advantage  and  means  of  personal 
improvement. 

In  nothing  is  childhood  more  strongly  distinguished 
from  manhood  than  in  this,  that  the  child  has  no  pur- 
pose, no  plan  of  life,  no  will  by  which  his  energies  are 
-directed.  He  lives,  in  a  great  measure,  to  enjoy  the 
passing  scene,  and  to  find  his  happiness  in  those  agree- 
able consciousnesses  which  from  hour  to  hour  come  to 
him  by  chance.  If  his  life  is  governed  by  a  plan,  a 
purpose,  it  is  the  purpose  of  another  —  not  his  own. 
The  man  has  his  own  purpose,  his  own  plan,  his  own 
life  and  aim.  The  sorrowful  experience  of  multitudes 


LIFE.  li_ 

in  this  respect  is  that  they  are  never  men,  but  children 
all  their  days.  Think  out  your  work,  then  work  out 
your  thought.  No  one  can  pursue  a  worthy  object, 
with  all  the  powers  of  his  mind,  and  yet  make  his  life 
a  failure.  A  man  may  work  in  the  dark,  yet  one  day 
light  shall  arise  upon  his  labor ;  and  though  he  may 
never,  with  his  own  lips,  declare  the  victory  complete, 
some  day  others  will  behold  in  his  life-work  the  traces 
of  a  great  and  thinking  mind. 

Take  life  like  a  man.  Take  it  just  as  though  it 
was  —  as  it  is  —  an  earnest,  vital,  essential  affair.  Take 
it  just  as  though  you  personally  were  born  to  the  task 
of  performing  a  merry  part  in  it  —  as  though  the  world 
had  waited  for  your  coming.  Take  it  as  though  it  was 
a  grand  opportunity  to  do  and  to  achieve,  to  carry 
forward  great  and  good  schemes ;  to  help  and  cheer 
a  suffering,  weary,  it  may  be  a  heart-broken,  brother. 
The  fact  is,  life  is  undervalued  by  a  great  majority  of 
mankind.  It  is  not  made  half  as  much  of  as  should  be 
the  case.  Now  and  then  a  man  stands  aside  from  the 
crowd,  labors  earnestly,  steadfastly,  confidently,  and 
straightway  becomes  famous  for  wisdom,  intellect, 
skill,  greatness  of  some  sort.  The  world  wonders, 
admires,  idolizes  ;  and  yet  it  only  illustrates  what  each 
may  do  if  he  takes  hold  of  life  with  a  purpose.  One 
way  is  right  to  go ;  the  hero  sees  it  and  moves  on  that 
aim  and  has  the  world  under  him  for  foot  and  support. 
His  approbation  is  honor,  his  dissent  infamy.  Man  was 
sent  into  the  world  to  be  a  growing  and  exhaustless 
force.  The  world  was  spread  out  around  him  to  be 
seized  and  conquered.  Realms  of  infinite  truth  burst 


-12  LIFE. 

open  above  him,  inviting  him  to  tread  those  shining- 
coasts  along  which  Newton  dropped  his  plummet  and 
Herschel  sailed, — a  Columbus  of  the  skies.  Some, 
because  they  have  once  or  twice  met  with  rebuffs,  sink 
in  discouragement.  Such  should  know,  that  our  own 
errors  may  often  teach  us  more  than  the  grave  pre- 
cepts of  others.  We  counsel  the  young  man  never 
to  despair.  If  he  can  make  nothing  by  any  work  that 
presents  itself  now,  he  can  at  least  make  himself;  or 
what  is  equivalent,  he  can  save  himself  from  the  sure 
death  of  a  pusillanimous,  halting,  irresolute  spirit. 
Never  be  cast  down  by  misfortunes.  If  a  spider  break 
his  web,  over  and  over  he  will  mend  it  again.  And 
do  not  you  fall  behind  the  very  insect  on  your  walls. 
If  the  sun  is  going  down  look  up  to  the  stars;  if  earth 
is  dark,  keep  your  eye  on  heaven.  With  the  presence 
and  promise  of  God,  we  can  bear  up  under  any  thing ; 
and  should  press  on,  and  never  falter  or  fear. 

It  is  my  firm  conviction  that  man  has  only  himself 
to  blame  if  his  life  appears  to  him  at  any  time  void  of 
interest  and  of  pleasure.  Man  may  make  life  what  he 
pleases  and  give  it  as  much  worth,  both  for  himself 
and  others,  as  he  has  energy  for.  Over  his  mwal 
and  intellectual  being  his  sway  is  complete. 

The  first  great  mistake  that  men  fall  into  is  that 
they  do  not  use  integrity  and  truth  and  good  sense 
in  judging  of  what  they  are  fit  for.  They  take  the 
things  that  they  want  and  not  the  things  that  they 
deserve.  They  aspire  after  things  that  are  pleasing 
to  their  ambition,  and  not  after  things  to  which  they 
are  adapted  by  their  capacity.  And  when  a  man  is 


LIFE.  13 

brought  into  as  sphere  of  his  ambition  for  which  he 
has  not  the  requisite  powers,  and  where  he  is  goaded 
on  every  side  in  the  discharge  of  his  duties,  his  tempt- 
ation is  at  once  to  make  up  by  fraud  and  appearance 
that  which  he  lacks  in  reality.  Men  are  seen  going 
across-lots  to  fortune;  and  a  poor  business  many  of 
them  make  of  it.  Oftentimes  they  lose  their  way; 
and  when  they  do  not,  they  find  so  many  hills  and 
valleys,  so  many  swells  and  depressions,  so  many  ris- 
ings and  fallings,  so  many  ups  and  downs,  that  though 
by  an  air-line  the  distance  might  be  shorter,  in  reality 
the  distance  is  greater  than  by  the  lawful  route ;  and 
when  they  come  back  they  are  ragged  and  poor  and 
mean.  There  is.  a  great  deal  of  going  across-lots  to 
make  a  beggar  of  a  man's  self  in  this  world.  Whereas, 
the  old-fashioned  homely  law  that  the  man  who  was  to 
establish  himself  in  life  must  take  time  to  lay  the  foun- 
dations of  reality,  and  gradually  and  steadily  build 
thereon,  holds  good  yet.  Though  you  slur  it  over, 
and  cover  it  up  with  fantasies,  and  find  it  almost  impos- 
sible to  believe  it,  it  is  so. 

Rely  not  upon  others  ;  but  let  there  be  in  your  own 
bosom  a  calm,  deep,  decided,  and  all-pervading  prin- 
ciple. Look  first,  midst,  and  last  to  God,  to  aid  you 
in  the  great  task  before  you  ;  and  then  plant  your  foot 
on  the  right.  Let  others  live  as  they  please, — tainted 
by  low  tastes,  debasing  passions,  a  moral  putrefaction. 
Be  you  tfre  salt  of  the  earth  ;  incorrupt  in  your  deeds, 
in  your  inmost  thoughts  and  feelings.  Nay  more, 
incorruptible,  like  virtue  herself;  your  manners  blame- 
less ;  your  views  of  duty,  not  narrow,  false  and  destnic- 


14  MAN    AND    WOMAN. 

tive,  but  a  savor  of  life  to  all  around  you.  Let  your 
speech  be  always  with  grace,  seasoned  with  the  salt  of 
truth,  honor,  manliness  and  benevolence.  Wait  not 
for  the  lash  of  guilt  to  scourge  you  to  the  path  of  God 
and  heaven.  Be  of  the  prudent  who  forsee  the  evil 
and  hide  themselves  from  it;  and  not  of  the  simple, 
who  pass  on  and  are  punished.  Life,  to  youth,  is  a 
fairy  tale  just  opened  ;  to  old  age,  a  tale  read  through, 
ending  in  death.  Be  wise  in  time,  that  you  may  be 
happy  in  eternity. 


MAN  is  bold  —  woman  is  beautiful.     Man  is  coura- 
geous—  woman  is  timid.      Man  labors  in  the  field  — 
woman  at  home.     Man   talks  to  persuade  —  woman 
to  please.     Man  has  a  daring  heart  —  woman  a  ten- 
der, loving  one.     Man  has  power — woman  taste.     Man 
has   justice  —  woman    mercy.      Man    has    strength  — 
woman  love ;    while  man   combats   with   the   enemy, 
struggles  with  the  world,  woman  is  waiting  to  prepare 
his  repast  and  sweeten  his  existence.      He  has  crosses, 

• 

and  the  partner  of  his  couch  is  there  to  soften  them ; 
his  days  may  be  sad  and  troubled,  but  in  the  chaste 
arms  of  his  wife  he  finds  comfort  and  repose.  Without 
woman,  man  would  be  rude,  gross,  solitary.  Woman 
spreads  around  him  the  flowers  of  existence,  as  the 
creepers  of  the  forests,  which  decorate  the  trunks  of 
sturdy  oaks  with  their  perfumed  garlands.  Finally,  the 


MAN    AND    WOMAN. 


Christian  pair  live  and  die  united  ;  together  they  rear 
the  fruits  of  their  union  ;  in  the  dust  they  lie  side  by 
side  ;  and  they  are  reunited  beyond  the  limits  of  the 
tomb. 

Man  has  his  strength  and  the  exercise  of  his  power; 
he  is  busy,  goes  about,  thinks,  looks  forward  to  the 
future,  and  finds  consolation  in  it  ;  but  woman  stays 
at  home,  remains  face  to  face  with  her  sorrow,  from 
which  nothing  distracts  her  ;  she  descends  to  the  very 
depths  of  the  abyss  it  has  opened,  measures  it,  and 
often  fills  it  with  her  vows  and  tears.  To  feel,  tc 
love,  to  suffer,  to  devote  herself,  will  always  be  the  text 
of  the  life  of  woman.  Man  has  a  precise  and  distinct 
language,  the  words  being  luminous  speech.  Woman 
possesses  a  peculiarly  musical  and  magical  language, 
interspersing  the  words  with  song.  Woman  is  affec- 
tionate  and  suffers  ;  she  is  constantly  in  need  of  some- 
thing to  lean  upon,  like  the  honeysuckle  upon  the  tree 
or  fence.  Man  is  attached  to  the  fireside  by  his 
affection  for  woman,  and  the  happiness  it  gives  him  to 
protect  and  support  her.  Superior  and  inferior  to  man, 
humiliated  by  the  heavy  hand  of  nature,  but  at  the 
same  time  inspired  by  intuitions  of  a  higher  order  than 
man  can  ever  experience,  she  has  fascinated  him,  inno- 
cently bewitched  him  forever.  And  man  has  remained 
enchanted  by  the  spell.  Women  are  generally  better 
creatures  than  men.  Perhaps  they  have,  taken  univer- 
sally, weaker  appetites  and  weaker  intellects,  but  they 
have  much  stronger  affections.  A  man  with  a  bad 
heart  has  been  sometimes  saved  by  a  strong  head  ; 
but  a  corrupt  woman  is  lost  forever. 


16  MAN    AND    WOMAN. 

* 

One  has  well  said:  "We  will  say  nothing  of  the 
manner  in  which  that  sex  usually  conduct  an  argument ; 
but  the  intuitive  judgments  of  women  are  often  more  to 
be  relied  upon  than  the  conclusions  which  we  reach  by 
an  elaborate  process  of  reasoning.  No  man  that  has 
an  intelligent  wife,  or  who  is  accustomed  to  the  society 
of  educated  women,  will  dispute  this.  Times  withou' 
number,  you  must  have  known  them  decide  questions 
on  the  instant,  and  with  unerring  accuracy,  which  you 
had  been  poring  over  for  hours,  perhaps  with  no  other 
result  than  to  find  yourself  getting  deeper  and  deeper 
into  the  tangled  maze  of  doubts  and  difficulties.  It 
were  hardly  generous  to  allege  that  they  achieve  these 
feats  less  by  reasoning  than  by  a  sort  of  sagacity  which 
approximates  to  the  sure  instinct  of  the  animal  races ; 
and  yet,  there  seems  to  be  some  ground  for  the  remark 
of  a  witty  French  writer,  that,  when  a  man  has  toiled 
step  by  step  up  a  flight  of  stairs,  he  will  be  sure  to  find 
a  woman  at  the  top ;  but  she  will  not  be  able  to  tell 
how  she  got  there.  How  she  got  there,  however,  is  of 
little  moment." 

It  is  peculiar  with  what  a  degree  of  tact  woman  will 
determine  whether  a  man  is  honest  or  not.  She  cannot 
give  you  the  reason  for  such  an  opinion,  only  that  she 
does  not  like  the  looks  of  the  man,  and  feels  that  he  is 
dishonest.  A  servant  comes  for  employment,  she  looks 
him  in  the  face  and  says  he  is  dishonest.  He  gives 
good  references,  and  you  employ  him  ;  he  robs  you, — 
you  may  be  quite  sure  he  will  do  that.  Years  after, 
another  man  comes ;  the  same  lady  looks  him  in  the 
face,  and  says  he,  too,  is  not  honest;  she  says  so,  again, 


MAN    AND    WOMAN.  17 

fresh  from  her  mere  insight ;  but  you,  also,  say  he  is  not 
honest.  You  say,  I  remember  I  had  a  servant  with  just 
the  same  look  about  him,  three  years  ago,  and  he 
robbed  me.  This  is  one  great  distinction  of  the  female 
intellect ;  it  walks  directly  and  unconsciously,  by  more 
delicate  insight  and  a  more  refined  and  a  more  trusted 
intuition,  to  an  end  to  which  men's  minds  grope  care- 
fully and  ploddingly  along.  Women  have  exercised  a 
most  beneficial  influence  in  softening  the  hard  and  un- 
truthful outline  which  knowledge  is  apt  to  assume  in  the 
hands  of  direct  scientific  observers  and  experimenters  ; 
they  have  prevented  the  casting  aside  of  a  mass  of  most 
valuable  truth,  which  is  too  fine  to  be  caught  in  the 
material  sieve,  and  eludes  the  closest  questioning  of  the 
microscope  and  the  test-glass ;  which  is  allied  with  our 
passions,  our  feelings ;  and  especially  holds  the  fine 
boundary-line  where  mind  and  matter,  sense  and  spirit, 
wave  their  floating  and  undistinguishable  boundaries, 
and  exercise  their  complex  action  and  reaction. 

When  a  woman  is  possessed  of  a  high  degree  of  tact, 
she  sees,  as  by  a  kind  of  second  sight,  when  any  little 
emergency  is  likely  to  occur,  or  when,  to  use  a  more 
familiar  expression,  things  do  not  seem  to  go  right. 
She  is  thus  aware  of  any  sudden  turn  in  conversation, 
and  prepared  for  what  it  may  lead  to,  but  above  all, 
she  can  penetrate  into  the  state  of  mind  of  those  she  is 
placed  in  contact  with,  so  as  to  detect  the  gathering 
gloom  upon  another's  brow,  before  the  mental  storm 
shall  have  reached  any  formidable  height;  to  know 
when  the  tone  of  voice  has  altered ;  when  any  unwel- 
come thought  shall  have  presented  itself,  and  when  the 


18  MAN    AND    WOMAN. 

pulse  of  feeling  is  beating  higher  or  lower  in  conse- 
quence of  some  apparently  trifling  circumstance.  In 
such  and  innumerable  other  instances  of  much  the 
same  character,  woman,  with  her  tact,  will  notice 
clearly  the  fluctuations  which  constantly  change  the 
feeling  of  social  life,  and  she  can  change  the  current 
of  feeling  suddenly  and  in  such  a  way  that  no  one 
detects  her ;  thus,  by  the  power  which  her  nature 
gives  her,  she  saves  society  the  pain  and  annoyance 
which  arise  very  frequently  from  trifles,  or  the  mis- 
management of  some  one  possessing  less  tact  and 
social  adaptation. 

Man  is  the  creature  of  interest  and  ambition.  His 
nature  leads  him  forth  into  the  struggle  and  bustle  of 
the  world.  Love  is  but  the  embellishment  of  his  early 
life,  or  a  song  piped  in  the  intervals  of  the  acts.  He 
seeks  for  fame,  for  fortune,  for  space  in  the  world's 
thought,  and  dominion  over  his  fellow-men.  But  a 
woman's  whole  life  is  the  history  of  the  affections.  The 
heart  is  her  world ;  it  is  there  her  ambition  strives  for 
empire ;  it  is  there  her  avarice  seeks  for  hidden  treas- 
ures. She  sends  forth  her  sympathies  on  adventure ; 
she  embarks  her  whole  soul  in  the  traffic  of  affection ; 
and  if  shipwrecked,  her  case  is  hopeless,  for  it  is  the 
bankruptcy  of  the  heart. 

To  a  man,  the  disappointment  of  love  may  occasion 
some  bitter  pangs ;  it  wounds  some  feelings  of  ten- 
derness ;  it  blasts  some  prospects  of  felicity ;  but  he 
is  an  active  being ;  he  may  dissipate  his  thoughts  in 
the  whirl  of  varied  occupation,  or  may  plunge  into 
the  tide  of  pleasure ;  or,  if  the  scene  of  disappoint- 


MAN    AND    WOMAN.  19 

ment  be  too  full  of  painful  associations,  he  can  shift 
his  abode  at  will,  and  taking,  as  it  were,  the  wings  of 
the  morning,  can  "fly  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the 
earth,  and  be  at  rest." 

We  find  man  the  cap-stone  of  the  climax  of  para- 
doxes ;  a  complex  budget  of  contradictions ;  a  hete- 
rogeneous compound  of  good  and  evil ;  the  noblest 
work  of  God,  bespattered  by  Lucifer;  an  immortal 
being,  cleaving  to  things  not  eternal ;  a  rational  being, 
violating  reason  ;  an  animal  with  discretion,  glutting, 
instead  of  prudently  feeding  appetite ;  an  original, 
harmonious  compact,  violating  order  and  reveling  in 
confusion.  Man  is  immortal  without  realizing  it ;  ra- 
tional, but  often  deaf  to  reason ;  a  combination  of 
noble  powers,  waging  civil  war,  robbing,  instead  of 
aiding  each  other ;  yet,  like  the  Siamese  twins,  com- 
pelled to  remain  in  the  same  apartment. 

The  following  shows  the  love,  tenderness,  and  forti- 
tude of  woman.  The  letter,  which  was  bedimmed 
with  tears,  was  written  before  the  husband  was  aware 
that  death  was  fixing  its  grasp  upon  the  lovely  com- 
panion, and  laid  in  a  book  which  he  was  wont  to  peruse: 

"  When  this  shall  reach  your  eyes,  dear  G — ,  some 
day  when  you  are  turning  over  the  relics  of  the  past,  I 
shall  have  passed  away  forever,  and  the  cold  white 
stone  will  be  keeping  its  lonely  watch  over  lips  you 
have  so  often  pressed,  and  the  sod  will  be  growing 
green  that  shall  hide  forever  from  your  sight  the  dust 
of  one  who  has  so  often  nestled  close  to  your  warm 
heart.  For  many  long  and  sleepless  nights,  when  all 
my  thoughts  were  at  rest,  I  have  wrestled  with  the 


20  MAN    AND    WOMAN. 

consciousness  of  approaching  death,  until  at  last  it  has 
forced  itself  on  my  mind.  Although  to  you  and  to 
others  it  might  now  seem  but  the  nervous  imagination 
of  a  girl,  yet,  dear  G — ,  it  is  so!  Many  weary  hours 
have  I  passed  in  the  endeavor  to  reconcile  myself  to 
leaving  you,  whom  I  love  so  well,  and  this  bright  world 
of  sunshine  and  beauty ;  and  hard  indeed  is  it  to  strug- 
gle on  silently  and  alone,  with  the  sure  conviction  that 
I  am  about  to  leave  forever  and  go  down  alone  into  the 
dark  valley.  'But  I  know  in  whom  I  have  trusted,' 
and  leaning  upon  His  arm,  'I  fear  no  evil.'  Don't 
blame  me  for  keeping  even  all  this  from  you.  How 
could  I  subject  you,  of  all  others,  to  such  a  sorrow  as  I 
feel  at  parting,  when  time  will  soon  make  it  apparent 
to  you  ?  I  could  have  wished  to  live,  if  only  to  be  at 
your  side  when  your  time  shall  come,  and  pillowing 
your  head  upon  my  breast,  wipe  the  death  damps  from 
your  brow,  and  commend  your  departing  spirit  to  its 
Maker's  presence,  embalmed  in  woman's  holiest  prayer. 
But  it  is  not  to  be  so ;  and  I  submit.  Yours  is  the 
privilege  of  watching,  through  long  and  dreary  nights, 
for  the  spirit's  final  flight,  and  of  transferring  my  sink- 
ing head  from  your  breast  to  my  Savior's  bosom ! 
And  you  shall  share  my  last  thought,  the  last  faint 
pressure  of  my  hand,  and  the  last  feeble  kiss  shall  be 
yours ;  and  even  when  flesh  and  heart  shall  have  failed 
me,  my  eye  shall  rest  on  yours  until  glazed  by  death ; 
and  our  spirits  shall  hold  one  fast  communion,  until 
gently  fading  from  my  view,  the  last  of  earth,  you 
shall  mingle  with  the  first  bright  glimpses  of  the 
unfading  glories  of  that  better  world,  where  partings 


MAN    AND    WOMAN.  21 

are  unknown.  Well  do  I  know  the  spot,  dear  G — , 
where  you  will  lay  me ;  often  have  we  stood  by  the 
place,  as  we  watched  the  mellow  sunset,  as  it  glanced 
its  quivering  flashes  through  the  leaves,  and  burnished 
the  grassy  mounds  around  us  with  stripes  of  gold. 
Each  perhaps  has  thought  that  one  of  us  would  come 
alone ;  and  whichever  it  might  be,  your  name  would 
be  on  the  stone.  We  loved  the  spot,  and  I  know 
you'll  love  it  none  the  less  when  you  see  the  same 
quiet  sunlight  and  gentle  breezes  play  among  the 
grass  that  grows  over  your  Mary's  grave.  I  know 
you'll  go  often  alone  there,  when  I  am  laid  there,  and 
my  spirit  shall  be  with  you  then,  and  whisper  among 
the  waving  branches,  '  I  am  not  lost,  but  gone  before.' " 

A  woman  has  no  natural  gift  more  bewitching  than 
a  sweet  laugh.  It  is  like  the  sound  of  flutes  upon  the 
water.  It  leads  from  her  in  a  clear  sparkling  rill ;  and 
the  heart  that  hears  it  feels  as  if  bathed  in  the  cool, 
exhilarating  spring.  Have  you  ever  pursued  an  unseen 
ngure  through  the  trees,  led  on  by  a  fairy  laugh,  now 
here,  now  there,  now  lost,  now  found?  We  have. 
And  we  are  pursuing  that  wandering  voice  to  this 
day.  Sometimes  it  comes  to  us  in  the  midst  of  care 
and  sorrow,  or  irksome  business,  and  then  we  turn 
away  and  listen,  and  hear  it  ringing  throughout  the 
room  like  a  silver  bell,  with  power  to  scare  away  the 
evil  spirits  of  the  mind.  How  much  we  owe  to  that 
sweet  laugh !  It  turns  prose  to  poetry ;  it  flings 
showers  of  sunshine  over  the  darkness  of  the  wood 
in  which  we  are  traveling. 

Quincy  being  asked  why  there  were  more  women 


22  MAN  AND  WOMAN. 

than  men,  replied,  "It  is  in  conformity  with  the 
arrangements  of  nature.  We  always  see  more  of 
heaven  than  of  earth."  He  cannot  be  an  unhappy 
man  who  has  the  love  and  smile  of  woman  to  accom- 
pany him  in  every  department  of  life.  The  world 
may  look  dark  and  cheerless  without — enemies  may 
gather  in  his  path — but  when  he  returns  to  his  fire- 
side, and  feels  the  tender  love  of  woman,  he  forgets 
his  cares  and  troubles,  and  is  comparatively  a  happy 
man.  He  is  but  half  prepared  for  the  journey  of 
life,  who  takes  not  with  him  that  friend  who  will 
forsake  him  in  no  emergency  —  who  will  divide  his 
sorrows  —  increase  his  joys — lift  the  veil  from  his 
heart  —  and  throw  sunshine  amid  the  darkest  scenes. 
No,  that  man  cannot  be  miserable  who  has  such  a 
companion,  be  he  ever  so  poor,  despised,  and  trodden 
upon  by  the  world. 

No  trait  of  character  is  more  valuable  in  a  female 
than  the  possession  of  a  sweet  temper.  Home  can 
never  be  made  happy  without  it.  It  is  like  the  flow- 
ers that  spring  up  in  our  pathway,  reviving  and 
cheering  us.  Let  a  man  go  home  at  night,  wearied 
and  worn  by  the  toils  of  the  day,  and  how  soothing 
is  a  word  by  a  good  disposition  !  It  is  sunshine  fall- 
ing on  his  heart.  He  is  happy,  and  the  cares  of  life 
are  forgotten.  Nothing  can  be  more  touching  than 
to  behold  a  woman  who  had  been  all  tenderness 
and  dependence,  and  alive  to  every  trivial  roughness 
while  treading  the  prosperous  path  of  life,  suddenly 
rising  in  mental  force  to  be  the  comforter  and  supporter 
of  her  husband  under  misfortune,  and  abiding  with 


MAN    AND    WOMAN.  23 

unshrinking  firmness  the  bitterest  winds  of  adversity. 
As  the  vine  which  has  long  twined  its  graceful  foliage 
about  the  oak,  and  been  lifted  by  it  in  sunshine,  will, 
when  the  hardy  tree  is  riven  by  the  thunderbolt  cling 
round  it  with  its  caressing  tendrils  and  bind  up  its 
shattered  boughs,  so  it  is  beautifully  ordained  that 
woman,  who  is  the  mere  dependent  and  ornament  of 
man  in  happiest  hours,  should  be  his  stay  and  solace 
when  smitten  by  sudden  calamity. 

A  woman  of  true  intelligence  is  a  blessing  at  home, 
in  her  circle  of  friends,  and  in  society.  Wherever  she 
goes,  she  carries  with  her  a  healthgiving  influence. 
There  is  a  beautiful  harmony  about  her  character  that 
at  once  inspires  a  respect  which  soon  warms  into  love. 
The  influence  of  such  a  woman  upon  society  is  of  the 
most  salutary  kind.  She  strengthens  right  principles  in 
the  virtuous,  incites  the  selfish  and  indifferent  to  good 
actions,  and  gives  to  even  the  light  and  frivolous  a  taste 
for  food  more  substantial  than  the  frothy  gossip  with 
which  they  seek  to  recreate  their  minds. 

Thackeray  says:  "It  is  better  for  you  to  pass  an 
evening  once  or  twice  a  week  in  a  lady's  drawing-room, 
even  though  the  conversation  is  slow,  and  you  know 
the  girl's  song  by  heart,  than  in  a  club,  a  tavern,  or  pit 
of  a  theatre.  All  amusements  of  youth  to  which  virtu- 
ous women  are  not  admitted,  rely  on  it,  are  deleterious 
in  their  nature.  All  men  who  avoid  female  society 
have  dull  perceptions,  and  are  stupid,  or  have  gross 
tastes,  and  revolt  against  what  is  pure.  Your  club 
swaggerers,  who  are  sucking  the  butts  of  billiard-cues 
all  night,  call  female  society  insipid.  Poetry  is  unin- 


24  MAN    AND    WOMAN. 

spiring  to  a  jockey ;  beauty  has  no  charms  for  a  blind 
man ;  music  does  not  please  a  poor  beast  who  does 
not  know  one  tune  from  another  ;  but  as  a  pure  epicure 
is  hardly  tired  of  water,  sauces,  and  brown  bread  and 
butter,  I  protest  I  can  sit  for  a  whole  evening  talking 
with  a  well  regulated,  kindly  woman  about  her  girl 
Fanny,  or  her  boy  Frank,  and  like  the  evening's 
entertainment.  One  of  the  great  benefits  a  man  may 
derive  from  a  woman's  society  is  that  he  is  bound  to 
be  respectful  to  her.  The  habit  is  of  great  good  to 
your  moral  men,  depend  upon  it.  Our  education 
makes  us  the  most  eminently  selfish  men  in  the 
world." 

Tom  Hood,  in  writing  to  his  wife,  says:  "I  never 
was  anything  till  I  knew  you ;  and  I  have  been  better, 
happier  and  a  more  prosperous  man  ever  since.  Lay 
that  truth  by  in  lavender,  and  remind  me  of  it  when  I 
fail.  I  am  writing  fondly  and  warmly ;  but  not  without 
good  cause.  First,  your  own  affectionate  letter,  lately 
received  ;  next,  the  remembrance  of  our  dear  children, 
pledges  of  our  old  familiar  love ;  then  a  delicious  im- 
pulse to  pour  out  the  overflowings  of  my  heart  into 
yours ;  and  last,  not  least,,  the  knowledge  that  your 
dear  eyes  will  read  what  my  hands  are  now  writing. 
Perhaps  there  is  an  after-thought  that,  whatever  may 
befall  me,  the  wife  of  my  bosom  will  have  this  acknowl- 
edgment of  her  tenderness,  worth  and  excellence,  of 
all  that  is  wifely  or  womanly,  from  my  pen." 

Among  all  nations  the  women  ornament  themselves 
more  than  the  men  ;  wherever  found,  they  are  the  same 
kind,  obliging,  humane,  tender  beings ;  they  are  ever 


MAN    AND    WOMAN.  25 

inclined  to  be  gay  and  cheerful,  timorous  and  modest. 
They  do  not  hesitate  like  a  man,  to  .perform  any  hos- 
pitable or  generous  action  ;  not  haughty  or  arrogant, 
or  supercilious,  but  full  of  courtesy,  and  fond  of  soci- 
ety, industrious,  economical,  ingenious,  more  liable,  in 
general,  to  err  than  man,  but,  in  general,  also,  more 
virtuous,  and  performing  more  good  actions  than  he. 

The  gentle  tendrils  of  woman's  heart  sometimes 
twine  around  a  proud  and  sinful  spirit,  like  roses  and 
jessamines  around  a  lightning-rod,  clinging  for  sup- 
port to  what  brings  down  upon  them  the  blasting 
thunderbolt. 

These  are  the  national  traits  of  woman's  character: 
The  English  woman  is  respectful  and  proud ;  the 
French  is  gay  and  agreeable ;  the  Italian  is  ardent 
and  passionate ;  the  American  is  sincere  and  affec- 
tionate. With  an  English  woman  love  is  a  principle  ; 
with  a  French  it  is  a  caprice ;  with  an  Italian  it  is  a 
passion ;  with  an  American  it  is  a  sentiment.  A  man 
is  married  to  an  English  lady ;  united  to  a  French ; 
cohabits  with  an  Italian ;  and  is  wedded  to  an  Ameri- 
can. An  English  woman  is  anxious  to  secure  a  lord ;  a 
French,  a  companion  ;  an  Italian,  a  lover ;  an  American, 
a  husband.  The  Englishman  respects  his  lady ;  the 
Frenchman  esteems  his  companion  ;  the  Italian  adores 
his  mistress ;  the  American  loves  his  wife.  At  night 
the  Englishman  returns  to  his  house ;  the  Frenchman 
to  his  establishment;  the  Italian  to  his  retreat;  the 
American  to  his  home.  When  an  Englishman  is  sick 
his  lady  visits  him ;  when  a  Frenchman  is  sick,  his 
companion  pities  him ;  when  an  Italian  is  sick,  his 


26  MAN    AND    WOMAN. 

mistress  sighs  over  him ;  when  an  American  is  sick, 
his  wife  nurses  him.  When  an  Englishman  dies,  his 
lady  is  bereaved ;  when  a  Frenchman  dies,  his  com- 
panion grieves ;  when  an  Italian  dies,  his  mistress 
laments ;  when  an  American  dies,  his  wife  mourns. 
An  English  woman  instructs  her  offspring ;  a  French 
woman  teaches  her  progeny;  an  Italian  rears' her 
young ;  an  American  educates  her  child. 

The  true  lady  is  known  wherever  you  meet  her. 
Ten  women  shall  get  into  the  street  car  or  omnibus, 
and,  though  we  never  saw  them,  we  shall  point  out 
the  true  lady.  She  does  not  giggle  constantly  at 
every  little  thing  that  transpires,  or  does  some  one 
appear  with  a  peculiar  dress,  it  does  not  throw  her 
into  confusion.  She  wears  no  flowered  brocade  to 
be  trodden  under  foot,  nor  ball-room  jewelry,  nor 
rose-tinted  gloves ;  but  the  lace  frill  round  her  face  is 
scrupulously  fresh,  and  the  strings  under  her  chin 
have  evidently  been  handled  only  by  dainty  fingers. 
She  makes  no  parade  of  a  watch,  if  she  wears  one; 
nor  does  she  draw  off  her  dark,  neatly-fitting  glove 
to  display  ostentatious  rings.  Still  we  notice,  nest- 
ling in  the  straw  beneath  us,  a  trim  little  boot,  not 
paper  soled,  but  of  an  anti-consumption  thickness. 
The  bonnet  upon  her  head  is  of  plain  straw,  simply 
trimmed,  for  your  true  lady  never  wears  a  "dress 
hat"  in  an  omnibus.  She  is  quite  as  civil  to  the 
poorest  as  to  the  richest  person  who  sits  beside  her, 
and  equally  regardful  of  their  rights.  If  she  attracts 
attention,  it  is  by  the  unconscious  grace  of  her  per- 
son and  manner,  not  by  the  ostentation  of  her  dress. 


MAN    AND    WOMAN.  27 

We  are  quite  sorry  when  she  pulls  the  strap  and 
disappears ;  if  we  were  a  bachelor  we  should  go 
home  to  our  solitary  den  with  a  resolution  to  become 
a  better  and  a  —  married  man. 

The  strongest  man  feels  the  influence  of  woman's 
gentlest  thoughts,  as  the  mightiest  oak  quivers  in  the 
softest  breeze.  We  confess  to  a  great  distrust  of 
that  man  who  persistently  underrates  woman.  Never 
did  language  better  apply  to  an  adjective  than  when 
it  called  the  wife  the  "better  half."  We  admire  the 
ladies  because  of  their  beauty,  respect  them  because 
of  their  virtues,  adore  them  because  of  their  intelli- 
gence, and  love  them  because  we  can  t  help  it. 

Man  was  made  to  protect,  love  and  cherish,  not  to 
undervalue,  neglect  or  abuse  women.  Treated,  edu- 
cated and  esteemed,  as  she  merits,  she  rises  in  dignity, 
becomes  the  refiner,  and  imparts  a  milder,  softer  tone 
to  man.  No  community  has  ever  exhibited  the 
refinements  of  civilization  and  social  order  where 
women  were  held  in  contempt  and  their  rights  not 
properly  respected  and  preserved.  Degrade  woman 
and  you  degrade  man  more.  She  is  the  fluid  of  the 
thermometer  of  society,  placed  there  by  the  hand  of 
the  great  Creator.  Man  may  injure  the  instrument, 
but  can  neither  destroy  or  provide  a  substitute  for  the 
mercury.  Her  rights  are  as  sacred  as  those  of  the 
male  sex.  Her  mental  powers  are  underrated  by 
those  only  who  have  either  not  seen,  or  were  so 
blinded  by  prejudice,  that  they  would  not  see  their 
development.  Educate  girls  as  boys,  put  women  in 
the  business  arena  designed  for  men,  and  they  will 


28  MAN    AND    WOMAN. 

acquit  themselves  far  better  than  boys  and  men  would 
if  they  were  placed  in  the  departments  designed  for 
females. 

The  perception  of  woman,  especially  in  cases  of 
emergency,  is  more  acute  than  that  of  man ;  unques- 
tionably so  designed  by  an  all-wise  Creator  for  the 
preservation  and  perpetuity  of  our  race.  Her  pa- 
tience and  fortitude,  her  integrity  and  constancy,  her 
piety  and  devotion,  are  naturally  stronger  than  in  the 
other  sex.  If  she  was  first  in  transgression,  she  was 
first  in  prayer.  Her  seed  has  bruised  the  serpent's 
head.  She  stood  by  the  expiring  Jesus,  when  boast- 
ing Peter  and  the  other  disciples  had  forsaken  their 
Lord.  She  was  the  last  at  his  tomb,  embalmed  his 
sacred  body,  and  the  first  to  discover  that  he  had 
burst  the  bars  of  death,  risen  from  the  cleft  rock,  and 
triumphed  over  death  and  the  grave. 

Under  affliction,  especially  physical,  the  fortitude 
of  woman  is  proverbial.  As  a  nurse,  one  female  will 
endure  more  than  five  men.  That  she  is  more  honest 
than  man,  our  penitentiaries  fully  demonstrate.  That 
she  is  more  religiously  inclined,  the  records  of  our 
churches  will  show.  That  she  is  more  devotional, 
our  prayer  meetings  will  prove. 

Women  have  exercised  a  most  remarkable  judgment 
in  regard  to  great  issues.  They  have  prevented  the 
casting  aside  of  plans  which  led  to  very  remarkable 
discoveries  and  inventions.  When  Columbus  laid  a 
plan  to  discover  the  new  world,  he  could  not  get  a 
hearing  till  he  applied  to  a  woman  for  help.  Woman 
equips  man  for  the  voyage  of  life.  She  is  seldom  a 


MOTHER.  29 

leader  in  any  project,  but  finds  her  peculiar  and  best 
attitude  as  helper.  Though  man  executes  a  project, 
she  fits  him  for  it,  beginning  in  his  childhood.  So 
everywhere ;  man  performs,  but  woman  trains  the 
man.  Every  effectual  person,  leaving  his  mark  on 
the  world,  is  but  another  Columbus,  for  whose  fur- 
nishing some  Isabella,  in  the  form  of  his  mother,  lays 
down  her  jewelry,  her  vanities,  her  comforts. 


IT  is  true  to  nature,  although  it  be  expressed  in  a 
figurative  form,  that  a  mother  is  both  the  morning  and 
the  evening  star  of  life.  The  light  of  her  eye  is 
always  the  first  to  rise,  and  often  the  last  to  set  upon 
man's  day  of  trial.  She  wields  a  power  more  decisive 
far  than  syllogisms  in  arguments,  or  courts  of  last 
appeal  in  authority.  Nay,  in  cases  not  a  few,  where 
there  has  been  no  fear  of  God  before  the  eyes  of 
the  young  —  where  His  love  has  been  unfelt  and 
His  law  outraged,  a  mother's  affection  or  her  tremu- 
ous  tenderness  has  held  transgressors  by  the  heart- 
strings, and  been  the  means  of  leading  them  back  to 
virtue  and  to  God. 

Woman's  charms  are  certainly  many  and  powerful. 
The  expanding  rose,  just  bursting  into  beauty,  has  an 
irresistible  bewitchingness  ; — the  blooming  bride,  led 
triumphantly  to  the  hymeneal  altar,  awakens  admira- 
tion and  interest,  and  the  blush  of  her  cheek  fills  with 


30  '  MOTHER. 

delight; — but  the  charm  of  maternity  is  more  sublime 
than  all  these. 

Heaven  has  imprinted  in  the  mother's  face  some- 
thing beyond  this  world,  something-  which  claims 
kindred  with  the  skies  —  the  angelic  smile,  the  tender 
look,  the  waking,  watchful  eye,  which  keeps  its  fond 
vigil  over  her  slumbering  babe. 

Mother !  ecstatic  sound  so  twined  round  our  hearts 
that  they  must  cease  to  throb  ere  we  forget  it !  'tis 
our  first  love ;  'tis  part  of  religion.  Nature  has  set 
the  mother  upon  such  a  pinnacle  that  our  infant  eyes 
and  arms  are  first  uplifted  to  it ;  we  cling  to  it  in  man- 
hood ;  we  almost  worship  it  in  old  age.  He  who  can 
enter  an  apartment  and  behold  the  tender  babe  feeding 
on  its  mother's  beauty — nourished  by  the  tide  of  life 
which  flows  through  her  generous  veins,  without  a 
panting  bosom  and  a  grateful  eye,  is  no  man,  but  a 
monster. 

" Can  a  mother's  love  be  supplied?  No!  a  thou- 
sand times  no !  By  the  deep,  earnest  yearning  of 
our  spirits  for  a  mother's  love ;  by  the  weary,  aching 
void  in  our  hearts ;  by  the  restless,  unsatisfied  wand- 
erings of  our  affections,  ever  seeking  an  object  on 
which  to  rest;  by  our  instinctive  discernment  of  the 
true  maternal  love  from  the  false  —  as  we  would  dis- 
cern between  a  lifeless  statue  and  a  breathing  man ; 
by  the  hallowed  emotions  with  which  we  cherish  in 
the  depths  of  our  hearts  the  vision  of  a  grass-grown 
mound  in  a  quiet  graveyard  among  the  mountains ; 
by  the  reverence,  the  holy  love,  the  feeling  akin  to 
idolatry  with  which  our  thoughts  hover  about  an 


MOTHER.  31 

angel   form   among-  the   seraphs  of  Heaven  —  by  all 
these,  we  answer,  no  !  " 

"Often  do  I  sigh  in  my  struggles  with  the  hard, 
uncaring  world,  for  the  s\veet,  deep  security  I  felt 
when,  of  an  evening,  nestling  in  her  bosom,  I  listened 
to  some  quiet  tale,  suitable  to  my  age,  read  in  her 
tender  and  untiring  voice.  Never  can  I  forget  her 
sweet  glance  cast  upon  me  when  I  appeared  asleep ; 
never  her  kiss  of  peace  at  night.  Years  have  passed 
away  since  we  laid  her  beside  my  father  in  the  old 
church-yard;  yet,  still  her  voice  whispers  from  the 
grave,  and  her  eye  watches  over  me,  as  I  visit  spots 
long  since  hallowed  to  the  memory  of  my  mother." 

Oh  !  there  is  an  enduring  tenderness  in  the  love  of  a 
mother  to  her  son  that  transcends  all  other  affections 
of  the  heart.  It  is  neither  to  be  chilled  by  selfish- 
ness, nor  daunted  by  danger,  nor  weakened  by  worth- 
lessness,  nor  stifled  by  ingratitude.  She  will  sacrifice 
every  comfort  to  his  convenience ;  she  will  surrender 
every  pleasure  to  his  enjoyment  ;  she  will  glory  in 
his  fame  and  exult  in  his  prosperity  ;  and  if  misfor- 
tune overtake  him,  he  will  be  the  dearer  to  her  from 
misfortune ;  and  if  disgrace  settle  upon  his  name, 
she  will  still  love  and  cherish  him  in  spite  of  his 
disgrace ;  and  if  all  the  world  beside  cast  him  off, 
she  will  be  all  the  world  to  him. 

Alas !  how  little  do  we  appreciate  a  mother's  ten- 
derness while  living.  How  heedless  are  we  in  youth 
of  all  her  anxieties  and  kindness  ?  But  when  she  is 
dead  and  gone,  when  the  cares  and  coldness  of  the 
world  come  withering  to  our  hearts,  when  we  experi- 


32  MOTHER. 

ence  how  hard  it  is  to  find  true  sympathy,  how  few  to 
love  us  for  ourselves,  how  few  will  befriend  us  in  mis- 
fortune, then  it  is  that  we  think  of  the  mother  we  have 
lost. 

Over  the  grave  of  a  friend,  of  a  brother,  or  a  sister, 
we  would  plant  the  primrose,  emblematical  of  youth ; 
but  over  that  of  a  mother,  we  would  let  the  green 
grass  shoot  up  unmolested,  for  there  is  something  in 
the  simple  covering  which  nature  spreads  upon  the 
grave,  that  well  becomes  the  abiding  place  of  decay- 
ing age.  O,  a  mother's  grave !  Earth  has  some 
sacred  spots  where  we  feel  like  loosing  shoes  from 
our  feet,  and  treading  with  reverence ;  where  common 
words  of  social  converse  seem  rude,  and  friendship's 
hands  have  lingered  in  each  other ;  where  vows  have 
been  plighted,  prayers  offered,  and  tears  of  parting 
shed.  Oh  !  how  thoughts  hover  around  such  places, 
and  travel  back  through  unmeasured  space  to  visit 
them  !  But  of  all  spots  on  this  green  earth  none  is  so 
sacred  as  that  where  rests,  waiting  the  resurrection, 
those  we  have  once  loved  and  cherished  —  our  broth- 
ers, or  our  children.  Hence,  in  all  ages,  the  better 
part  of  mankind  have  chosen  spots  for  the  dead,  and 
on  these  spots  they  have  loved  to  wander  at  eventide. 
But  of  all  places,  even  among  the  charnel-houses  of 
the  dead,  none  is  so  sacred  as  a  mother's  grave. 
There  sleeps  the  nurse  of  infancy,  the  guide  of  our 
youth,  the  counselor  of  our  riper  years  —  our  friend 
when  others  deserted  us ;  she  whose  heart  was  a 
stranger  to  every  other  feeling  but  love  —  there  she 
sleeps,  and  we  love  the  very  earth  for  her  sake. 


TM  E 


MOTHER.  33 

In  what  Christian  country  can  we  deny  the  influence 
which  a  mother  exerts  over  the  whole  life  of  her  chil- 
dren. The  roughest  and  hardest  wanderer,  while  he 
is  tossed  on  the  ocean,  or  while  he  scorches  his  feet 
on  the  desert  sands,  recurs  in  his  loneliness  and 
suffering  to  the  smiles  which  maternal  affection  shed 
over  his  infancy ;  the  reckless  sinner,  even  in  his 
hardened  career,  occasionally  hears  the  whisperings  of 
those  holy  precepts  instilled  by  a  virtuous  mother, 
and,  although  they  may,  in  the  fullness  of  guilt,  be  neg- 
lected, there  are  many  instances  of  their  having  so 
stung  the  conscience  that  they  have  led  to  a  deep 
and  lasting  repentence  ;  the  erring  child  of  either  sex 
will  then,  if  a  mother  yet  exists,  turn  to  her  for  that 
consolation  which  the  laws  of  society  deny,  and  in 
the  lasting  purity  of  a  mother's  love  will  find  the  way 
to  heaven.  How  cheerfully  does  a  virtuous  son  labor 
for  a  poverty-stricken  mother !  How  alive  is  he  to  her 
honor  and  high  standing  in  the  world !  And  should 
that  mother  be  deserted  —  be  left  in  "worse  than  wid 
owhood,"  how  proudly  he  stands  forth  her  comforter 
and  protector !  Indeed,  the  more  we  reflect  upon  the 
subject,  the  more  entirely  are  we  convinced,  that  no 
influence  is  so  lasting,  or  of  such  wide  extent,  and  the 
more  extensively  \ve  do  feel  the  necessity  of  guiding 
this  sacred  affection,  and  perfecting  that  being  from 
whom  it  emanates. 

Science  has  sometimes  tried  to  teach  us   that  if  a 

pebble  be   cast  into   the  sea  on  any  shore,  the  effects 

are  felt  though  not  perceived  by  man,  over  the  whole 

area  of  the  ocean.      Or,  more  wonderful   still,  science 

3 


34 


MOTHER. 


has  tried  to  show  that  the  effects  of  all  the  sounds 
ever  uttered  by  man  or  beast,  or  caused  by  inanimate 
things,  are  still  floating-  in  the  air :  its  prer.ent  state  is 
just  the  aggregate  result  of  all  these  sounds ;  and  if 
these  things,  be  true,  they  furnish  an  emblem  of  the 
effects  produced  by  a  mother's  power  —  effects  which 
stretch  into  eternity,  and  operate  there  forever,  in  sor- 
row or  in  joy. 

The  mother  can  take  man's  whole:  nature  under 
her  control.  She  becomes  what  she  has  been  called, 
"The  divinity  of  infancy."  Her  smile  is  its  sun- 
shine, her  word  its  mildest  law,  until  sin  and  the 
world  have  steeled  the  heart.  She  can  shower  around 
her  the  most  genial  of  all  influences,  and  from  the 
time  when  she  first  laps  her  little  one  in  Elysium  by 
clasping  him  to  her  bosom — "its  first  paradise  "- 
to  the  moment  when  that  child  is  independent  of  her 
aid,  or  perhaps,  like  Washington,  directs  the  destinies 
of  millions,  her  smile,  her  word,  her  wish,  is  an  inspir- 
ing force.  A  sentence  of  encouragement  or  praise  is 
a  joy  for  a  day.  It  spreads  light  upon  all  faces,  and 
renders  a  mother's  power  more  and  more  charm-like, 
as  surely  as  ceaseless  accusing,  rebuking,  and  correct- 
ing, chafes,  sours  and  disgusts.  So  intense  is  her 
power  that  the  mere  remembrance  of  a  praying 
mother's  hand,  laid  on  the  head  in  infancy,  has  held 
back  a  son  from  guilt  when  passion  had  waxed  strong. 

The  mother  is  the  angel-spirit  of  home.  Her  ten- 
der yearnings  over  the  cradle  of  her  infant  babe,  her 
guardian  care  of  the  child  and  youth,  and  her  bosom 
companionship  with  the  man  of  her  love  and  choice, 


MOTHER. 


35 


make  her  the  personal  centre  of  the  interests,  the 
hopes  and  the  happiness  of  the  family.  Her  love 
glows  in  her  sympathies  and  reigns  in  all  her  thoughts 
and  deeds.  It  never  cools,  it  never  tires,  never 
dreads,  never  sleeps,  but  ever  glows  and  burns  with 
increasing  ardor,  and  with  sweet  and  holy  incense 
upon  the  altar  of  home  devotion.  And  even  when 
she  is  gone  to  her  last  rest,  the  sainted  mother  in 
heaven  sways  a  mightier  influence  over  her  wayward 
husband  or  child,-  than  when  she  was  present.  Her 
departed  spirit  still  hovers  over  his  affections,  over- 
shadows his  path,  and  draws  him  by  unseen  cords  to 
herself  in  heaven. 

But  in  glancing  at  a  mother's  position  in  our 
homes,  we  should  not  overlook  the  sorrows  to  which 
she  is  often  exposed.  A  mother  mourning  by  the 
grave  of  her  first-born  is  a  spectacle  of  woe.  A 
mother  watching  the  palpitating  frame  of  her  child, 
as  life  ebbs  slowly  away,  must  evoke  the  sympathy 
of  the  sternest.  A  mother  closing  the  dying  eye  of 
child  after  child,  till  it  seems  as  if  she  were  to  be  left 
alone  in  the  world  again,  is  one  of  the  saddest  sights 
of  earth.  When  the  cradle-song  passes  into  a  dirge, 
the  heart  is  laden  indeed. 

Not  long  ago  two  friends  were  sitting  together  en- 
gaged in  letter  writing.  One  was  a  young  man  from 
India,  the  other  a  female  friend,  part  of  whose  family 
resided  in  that  far-off  land.  The  former  was  writing 
to  his  mother  in  India.  When  the  letter  was  finished 
his  friend  offered  to  enclose  it  in  hers,  to  save  postage. 
This  he  politely  declined,  saying:  If  it  be  sent  sepa 


36  MOTHER. 

rately,  it  will  reach  her  sooner  than  if  sent  through  a 
friend;  and,  perhaps,  it  may  save  her  a  tear."  His 
friend  was  touched  at  his  tender  regard  for  his  moth- 
er's feelings,  and  felt  with  him,  that  it  was  worth  pay- 
ing the  postage  to  save  his  mother  a  tear.  Would 
that  every  boy  and  girl,  every  young  man  and  every 
young  woman  were  equally  saving  of  a  mother's  tears. 

The  Christian  mother  especially  can  deeply  plant 
and  genially  cherish  the  seeds  of  truth.  Is  her  child 
sick?  that  is  a  text  from  which  to  speak  of  the  Great 
Physician.  Is  it  the  sober  calm  of  evening,  when 
even  children  grow  sedate  ?  She  can  tell  of  the 
Home  where  there  is  no  night.  Is  it  morning,  when 
all  are  buoyantly  happy?  The  eternal  day  is  sug- 
gested, and  its  glories  may  be  told.  That  is  the  wis- 
dom which  wins  souls  even  more  than  the  formal 
lesson,  the  lecture,  or  the  task. 

There  is  one  suggestion  more.  Perhaps  the  saddest 
sentence  that  can  fall  upon  the  ear  regarding  any 
child  is  —  "He  has  no  mother;  she  is  dead!"  It 
comes  like  a  voice  from  the  sepulchre,  and  involves 
the  consummation  of  all  the  sorrows  that  can  befall 
the  young.  In  that  condition  they  are  deprived  of 
their  most  tender  comforter,  and  their  wisest  coun- 
selor. They  are  left  a  prey  to  a  thousand  tempta- 
tions or  a  thousand  ills,  and  freed  from  the  restraint 
of  one  who  could  curb  without  irritating,  or  guide 
without  affecting  superiority.  Now  will  mothers  live 
with  their  children  as  if  they  were  thus  to  leave  them 
in  a  cold  and  inhospitable  world?  Will  they  guide 
their  little  ones  to  Him  who  is  pre-eminently  the 


CHILDREN.  37 

God  of  the  orphan,  and  who  inspired  his  servant  to 
say — "Though  father  and  mother  forsake  me,  the 
Lord  will  take  me  up." 


WOE  to  him  who  smiles  not  over  a  cradle,  and 
weeps  not  over  a  tomb.  He  who  has  never  tried  the 
companionship  of  a  little  child,  has  carelessly  passed 
by  one  of  the  greatest  pleasures  of  life,  as  one  passes 
a  rare  flower  without  plucking  it  or  knowing  its  value. 
The  gleeful  laugh  of  happy  children  is  the  best  home 
music,  and  the  graceful  figures  of  childhood  are  the 
best  statuary.  We  are  all  kings  and  queens  in  the 
cradle,  and  each  babe  is  a  new  marvel,  a  new  miracle. 
The  perfection  of  the  providence  for  childhood  is 
willingly  acknowledged.  The  care  which  covers  the 
seed  of  the  tree  under  tough  husks,  and  stony  cases 
provides  for  the  human  plant,  the  mother's  breast  and 
the  father's  house.  The  size  of  the  nestler  is  comic, 
and  its  tiny,  beseeching  weakness  is  compensated 
v  >ctly  by  the  one  happy,  patronizing  look  of  the 
motnL..',  who  is  a  sort  of  high-reposing  Providence 
to  it.  Welcome  to  the  parents  the  puny  struggler, 
strong  in  his  weakness,  his  little  arms  more  irresisti- 
ble than  the  soldier's,  his  lips  touched  with  persuasion 
which  Chatham  and  Pericles  in  manhood  had  not. 
His  unaffected  lamentations  when  he  lifts  up  his  voice 
on  high ;  the  face  all  liquid  grief,  as  he  tries  to  swal- 


38  CHILDREN. 

low  his  vexation  —  soften  all  hearts  to  pity  and  to 
mirthful  and  clamorous  compassion.  The  small  des- 
pot asks  so  little  that  all  reason  and  all  nature  are  on 
his  side.  His  ignorance  is  more  charming  than  ali 
knowledge,  and  his  little  sins  more  bewitching  than 
any  virtue.  His  flesh  is  angel's  flesh,  all  alive. 
"Infancy,"  said  Coleridge,  "presents  body  and  spirit 
in  unity;  the  body  is  all  animated."  All  day,  between 
his  three  or  four  sleeps,  he  coos  like  a  pigeon-house, 
sputters  and  purs,  and  puts  on  his  faces  of  import- 
ance, and  when  he  fasts,  the  little  Pharisee  fails  not 
to  sound  his  trumpet  before  him.  By  lamplight,  he 
delights  in  shadows  on  the  wall ;  by  daylight,  in  yel- 
low and  scarlet.  -Carry  him  out  of  -doors  —  he  is 
overpowered  by  the  light  and  by  the  extent  of  natural 
objects,  and  is  silent.  Then  presently  begins  his  use 
of  his  fingers,  and  he  studies  power  —  the  lesson  of 
his  race. 

Not  without  design  has  God  implanted  in  the  ma- 
ternal breast  that  strong  love  of  their  children  which 
is  felt  everywhere.  This  lays  deep  and  broad  the 
foundation  for  the  child's  future  education  from  paren- 
tal hands.  Nor  without  designs  has  Christ  com- 
manded, "Feed  my  lambs," — meaning  to  inculcate 
upon  his  church  the  duty  of  caring  for  the  children 
of  the  church  and  the  world  at  the  earliest  possible 
period.  Nor  can  parents  and  all  well-wishers  to  hu- 
manity be  too  earnest  and  careful  to  fulfill  the  prompt- 
ings of  their  very  nature  and  the  command  of  Christ 
in  this  matter.  Influence  is  as  quiet  and  imperceptible 
on  the  child's  mind  as  the  falling  of  snowflakes  on  the 


CHILDREN.  39 

meadow.  One  cannot  tell  the  hour  when  the  human 
mind  is  not  in  the  condition  of  receiving  impressions 
from  exterior  moral  forces.  In  innumerable  instances, 
the  most  secret  and  unnoticed  influences  have  been  in 
operation  for  months  and  even  years  to  break  down 
the  strongest  barriers  of  the  human  heart,  and  work 
out  its  moral  ruin,  while  yet  the  fondest  parents  and 
and  friends  have  been  unaware  of  the  working  of 
such  unseen  agents  of  evil.  Not  all  at  once  does  any 
heart  become  utterly  bad.  The  error  is  in  this ;  that 
parents  are  not  conscious  how  early  the  seeds  of  vice 
are  sown  and  take  root.  It  is  as  the  Gospel  declares, 
"While  men  slept,  the  enemy  came  and  sowed  tares, 
and  went  his  way."  If  this  then  is  the  error,  how 
shall  it  be  corrected,  and  what  is  the  antidote  to  be 
applied  ? 

Never  scold  children,  but  soberly  and  quietly 
reprove.  Do  not  employ  shame,  except  in  extreme 
cases.  The  suffering  is  acute ;  it  hurts  self-respect 
in  the  child  to  reprove  a  child  before  the  family;  to 
ridicule  it,  to  tread  down  its  feelings  ruthlessly,  is  to 
wake  in  its  bosom  malignant  feelings.  A  child  is 
defenceless ;  he  is  not  allowed  to  argue.  He  is  often 
tried,  condemned  and  executed  in  a  second.  He  finds 
himself  of  little  use.  He  is  put  at  things  he  don't 
care  for,  and  withheld  from  things  which  he  does  like. 
He  is  made  the  convenience  of  grown-up  people ;  is 
hardly  supposed  to  have  any  rights,  except  in  a  cor- 
ner, as  it  were ;  is  sent  hither  and  thither ;  made  to 
get  up  or  sit  down  for  everybody's  convenience  but  his 
own ;  is  snubbed  and  catechised  until  he  learns  to 


40  CHILDREN. 

dodge  government  and  elude  authority,  and  then  be 
whipped  for  being  "such  a  liar  that  no  one  can 
believe  him." 

Children  will  not  trouble  you  long.  They  grow 
up  —  nothing  on  earth  grows  so  fast  as  children.  It 
was  but  yesterday,  and  that  lad  was  playing  with  tops, 
a  buoyant  boy.  He  is  a  man,  and  gone  now !  There 
is  no  more  childhood  for  him  or  for  us.  Life  has 
claimed  him.  When  a  beginning  is  made,  it  is  like  a 
raveling  stocking ;  stitch  by  stitch  gives  way  till  all 
are  gone.  The  house  has  not  a  child  in  it — there  is 
no  more  noise  in  the  hall  —  boys  rush  in  pell-mell;  it 
is  very  orderly  now.  There  are  no  more  skates  or 
sleds,  bats,  balls  or  strings  left  scattered  about. 
Things  are. neat  enough  now.  There  is  no  delay  for 
sleepy  folks ;  there  is  no  longer  any  task,  before  you 
lie  down,  of  looking  after  anybody,  and  tucking  up 
the  bedclothes.  There  are  no  disputes  to  settle, 
nobody  to  get  off  to  school,  no  complaint,  no  oppor- 
tunities for  impossible  things,  no  rips  to  mend,  no  fin- 
gers to  tie  up,  no  faces  to  be  washed,  or  collars  to  be 
arranged.  There  never  was  such  peace  in  the  house  ! 
It  would  sound  like  music  to  have  some  feet  to 
clatter  down  the  front  stairs  !  Oh  for  some  children's 
noise !  What  used  to  ail  us,  that  we  were  hushing 
their  loud  laugh,  checking  their  noisy  frolic,  and 
reproving  their  slamming  and  banging  the  doors?  We 
wish  our  neighbors  .would  only  lend  us  an  urchin 
or  two  to  make  a  little  noise  in  these  premises.  A 
home  without  children.  It  is  like  a  lantern  and 
no  candle ;  a  garden  and  no  flowers ;  a  vine  and  no 


CHILDREN.  41 

grapes ;  a  brook  and  no  water  gurgling-  and  gushing 
in  its  channel.  We  .want  to  be  tired,  to  be  vexed, 
to  be  run  over,  to  hear  children  at  work  with  all  its 
varieties. 

Bishop  Earle  says:  "A  child  is  man  in  a  small 
letter,  yet  the  best  copy  of  Adam,  before  he  tasted  of 
Eve  or  the  apple ;  and  he  is  happy  whose  small  prac- 
tice in  the  world  can  only  write  his  character.  His 
soul  is  yet  a  white  paper  unscribbled  with  observations  - 
of  the  world,  wherewith,  at  length,  it  becomes  a 
blurred  note-book.  He  is  purely  happy,  because  he 
knows  no  evil,  nor  hath  made  means  by  sin  to  be 
acquainted  with  misery.  He  arrives  not  at  the  mis- 
chief of  being  wise,  nor  endures  evils  to  come,  by 
forseeing  them.  He  kisses  and  loves  all,  and  when 
the  smart  of  the  rod  is  past,  smiles  on  his  beater. 
The  older  he  grows,  he  is  a  stair  lower  from  God. 
He  is  the  Christian  example,  and  the  old  man's 
relapse ;  the  one  imitates  his  pureness,  and  the  other 
falls  into  his  simplicity.  Could  he  put  off  his  body 
with  his  little  coat,  he  had  got  eternity  without  a 
burden,  and  exchanged  but  one  heaven  for  another." 

Children  are  more  easily  led  to  be  good  by  exam- 
ples of  loving  kindness,  and  tales  of  well-doing  in 
others,  than  threatened  into  obedience  by  records  of 
sin,  crime  and  punishment.  Then,  on  the  infant  mind 
impress  sincerity,  truth,  honesty,  benevolence  and 
their  kindred  virtues,  and  the  welfare  of  your  child 
will  be  insured  not  only  during  this  life,  but  the  life 
to  come.  Oh,  what  a  responsibility,  to  form  a  crea- 
ture, the  frailest  and  feeblest  that  heaven  has  made, 


42  YOUTH. 

into  the  intelligent  and  fearless  sovereign  of  the  whole 
animated  creation,  the  interpreter  and  adorer  and 
almost  the  representative  of  Divinity ! 


MEN  glory  in  raising  great  and  magnificent  struc- 
tures, and  find  a  secret  pleasure  in  seeing  sets  of  their 
own  planting  grow  up  and  flourish  ;  but  it  is  a  greater 
and  more  glorious  work  to  build  up  a  man ;  to  see  a 
youth  of  our  own  planting,  from  the  small  beginnings 
and  advantages  we  have  given  him,  grow  up  into  a 
considerable  fortune,  to  take  root  in  the  world,  and  to 
shoot  up  to  such  a  height,  and  spread  his  branches  so 
wide,  that  we  who  first  planted  him  may  ourselves 
find  comfort  and  shelter  under  his  shadow. 

Much  of  our  early  gladness  vanishes  utterly  from 
our  memory ;  we  can  never  recall  the  joy  with  which 
we  laid  our  heads  on  our  mother's  bosom,  or  rode 
our  father's  back  in  childhood ;  doubtless  that  joy  is 
wrought  up  into  our  nature  as  the  sunlight  of  long  past 
mornings  is  wrought  up  in  the  soft  mellowness  of  the 
apricot. 

The  time  will  soon  come  —  if  it  has  not  already — 
when  you  must  part  from  those  who  have  surrounded 
the  same  paternal  board,  who  mingled  with  you  in 
the  gay-hearted  joys  of  childhood,  and  the  opening 
promise  of  youth.  New  cares  will  attend  you  in  new 
situations ;  and  the  relations  you  form,  or  the  busi- 


YOUTH.  43 

ness  you  pursue,  may  call  you  far  from  the  "play- 
place"  of  your  "early  days."  In  the  unseen  future, 
your  brothers  and  sisters  may  be  sundered  from  you ; 
your  lives  may  be  spent  apart ;  and  in  death  you  may 
be  divided ;  and  of  you  it  may  be  said  — 

"They  grew  in  beauty,  side  by  side, 
They  filled  one  home  with  glee ; 
Their  graves  are  severed  far  and  wide, 
By  mount,  and  stream,  and  sea." 

Let  your  own  home  be  the  cynosure  of  your  affec- 
tions, the  spot  where  your  highest  desires  are  concen- 
trated. Do  this,  and  you  will  prove,  not  only  the  hope, 
but  the  stay  of  your  kindred  and  home.  Your  per- 
sonal character  will  elevate  the  whole  family.  Others 
may  become  degenerate  sons,  and  bring  the  gray  hairs 
of  their  parents  with  sorrow  to  the  grave.  But  you 
will  be  the  pride  and  staff  of  a  mother,  and  an  honor  to 
your  sire.  You  will  establish  their  house,  give  peace 
to  their  pillow,  and  be  a  memorial  to  their  praise. 

Spend  your  evening  hours,  boys,  at  home.  You 
may  make  them  among  the  most  agreeable  and  profit- 
able of  your  lives,  and  when  vicious  companions 
would  tempt  you  away,  remember  that  God  has  said, 
"  Cast  not  in  thy  lot  with  them  ;  walk  thou  not  in  their 
way ;  refrain  thy  foot  from  their  path.  They  lay  in 
wait  for  their  own  blood ;  they  lurk  privily  for  their 
own  lives.  But  walk  thou  in  the  way  of  good  men, 
and  keep  the  paths  of  the  righteous." 

Keep  good  company  or  none.  Never  be  idle.  If 
your  hands  cannot  be  usefully  employed,  attend  to  the 
cultivation  of  your  mind.  Always  speak  the  truth. 


44  YOUTH.      ,    ,\t 

Make  few  promises.  Live  up  to  your  engagements. 
Keep  your  own  secrets,  if  you  have  any.  When  you 
speak  to  a  person,  look  him  in  the  face.  Good 
company  and  good  conversation  are  the  very  sinews 
of  virtue.  Good  character  is  above  all  things  else. 
Your  character  cannot  be  essentially  injured  except 
by  your  own  acts.  If  one  speak  evil  of  you,  let 
life  be  such  that  none  will  believe  him.  Drink  no 
kind  of  intoxicating  liquors.  Always  live,  misfortune 
excepted,  within  your  income.  When  you  retire  to 
bed,  think  over  what  you  have  been  doing  during  the 
day.  Make  no  haste  to  be  rich  if  you  would  prosper. 
Small  and  steady  gains  give  competency  with  tran- 
quillity of  mind.  Never  play  at  any  kind  of  game  of 
chance.  Avoid  temptation  through  fear  that  you  may 
not  be  able  to  withstand  it.  Never  run  into  debt, 
unless  you  see  a  way  to  get  out  again.  Never  bor- 
row if  you  can  possibly  avoid  it.  Never  speak  evil 
of  any  one.  Be  just  before  you  are  generous.  Keep 
yourself  innocent  if  you  would  be  happy,  Save  when 
you  are  young  to  spend  when  you  are  old.  Never 
think  that  which  you  do  for  religion  is  time  or  money 
misspent.  Always  go  to  meeting  when  you  can. 
Read  some  portion  of  the  Bible  every  day.  Often 
think  of  death,  and  your  accountability  to  God. 

An  honest,  industrious  boy  is  always  wanted.  He 
will  be  sought  for ;  his  services  will  be  in  demand ;  he 
will  be  respected  and  loved ;  he  will  be  spoken  of  in 
words  of  high  commendation ;  he  will  always  have  a 
home ;  he  will  grow  up  to  be  a  man  of  known  worth 
and  established  character. 


YOUTH.  45 

He  will  be  wanted.  The  merchant  will  want  him 
for  a  salesman  or  a  clerk ;  the  master  mechanic  will 
want  him  for  an  apprentice  or  a  journeyman ;  those 
with  a  job  to  let  will  want  him  for  a  contractor ; 
clients  will  want  him  for  a  lawyer ;  patients  for  a  phy- 
sician ;  religious  congregations  for  a  pastor ;  parents 
for  a  teacher  of  their  children ;  and  the  people  for  an 
an  officer. 

He  will  be  wanted.  Townsmen  will  want  him  as  a 
citizen  ;  acquaintances  as  a  neighbor ;  neighbors  as 
a  friend ;  families  as  a  visitor ;  the  world  as  an  ac- 
quaintance ;  nay,  girls  will  want  him  for  a  beau  and 
finally  for  a  husband. 

To  both  parents,  when  faithful,  a  child  is  indebted 
beyond  estimation.  If  one  begins  to  enumerate  their 
claims,  to  set  in  order  their  labors,  and  recount  their 
sacrifices  and  privations,  he  is  soon  compelled  to 
desist  from  his  task.  He  is  constrained  to  acknowl- 
edge that  their  love  for  him  is  surpassed  only  by  that 
of  the  great  Spring  of  all  good,  whom  —  to  represent 
in  the  strongest  language  our  measureless  indebted- 
ness to  Him  —  we  call  "Our  Father  in  Heaven." 

Parents  do  wrong  in  keeping  their  children  hang- 
ing around  home,  sheltered  and  enervated  by  parental 
indulgence.  The  eagle  does  better.  It  stirs  up  its 
nest  when  the  young  eagles  are  able  to  fly.  They 
are  compelled  to  shift  for  themselves,  for  the  old  eagle 
literally  turns  them  out,  and  at  the  same  time  tears 
all  the  down  and  feathers  from  the  nest.  'Tis  this 
rude  and  rough  experience  that  makes  the  king  of 
birds  so  fearless  in  his  flight  and  so  expert  in  the 


46  YOUTH. 

pursuit  of  prey.  It  is  a  misfortune  to  be  born  with  a 
silver  spoon  in  your  mouth,  for  you  have  it  to  carry 
and  plague  you  all  your  days.  Riches  often  hang 
like  a  dead  weight,  yea  like  a  millstone  about  the 
necks  of  ambitious  young  men.  Had  Benjamin  Frank- 
lin or  George  Law  been  brought  up.  in  the  lap  of 
affluence  and  ease,  they  would  probably  never  have 
been  heard  of  by  the  world  at  large.  It  was  the 
making  of  the  one  that  he  ran  away,  and  of  the  other 
that  he  was  turned  out  of  doors.  Early  thrown  upon 
their  own  resources,  they  acquired  the  energy  and 
skill  to  overcome  resistance,  and  to  grapple  with  the 
difficulties  that  beset  their  pathway.  And  here  I 
think  they  learned  the  most  important  lesson  of  their 
lives  —  a  lesson  that  developed  their  manhood  —  forc- 
ing upon  them  Necessity,  the  most  useful  and  inexor- 
able of  masters.  There  is  nothing  like  being  bound 
out,  turned  out,  or  even  kicked  out,  to  compel  a  man 
to  do  for  himself.  Rough  handling  of  the  last  sort 
has  often  made  drunken  men  sober.  Poor  boys, 
though  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  should  remember  that 
every  step  they  take  toward  the  goal  of  wealth  and 
honor  gives  them  increased  energy  and  power.  They 
have  a  purchase  and,  obtain  a  momentum,  the  rich 
man's  son  never  knows.  The  poor  man's  son  has 
the  heaviest  weight  to  lift,  but  without  knowing  it  he 
is  turning  the  longest  lever,  and  that  with  the  utmost 
vim  and  vigor.  Boys,  do  not  sigh  for  the  capital  or 
indulgence  of  the  rich,  but  use  the  capital  you  have  — 
I  mean  those  God-given  powers  which  every  healthy 
youth  of  good  habits  has  in  and  of  himself.  All  a 


YOUTH.  47 

man  wants  in  this  life  is  a  skillful  hand,  a  well  informed 
mind,  and  a  good  heart.  In  our  happy  land,  and  in 
these  favored  times  of  libraries,  lyceums,  liberty,  reli- 
gion and  education,  the  humblest  and  poorest  can  aim 
at  the  greatest  usefulness,  and  the  highest  excellence, 
with  a  prospect  of  success  that  calls  forth  all  the 
endurance,  perseverance  and  industry  that  is  in  man. 
We  live  in  an  age  marked  by  its  lack  of  veneration. 
Old  institutions,  however  sacred,  are  now  fearlessly, 
and  often  wantonly,  assailed  ;  the  aged  are  not  treated 
with  deference  ;  and  fathers  and  mothers  are  address- 
ed with  rudeness.  The  command  now  runs,  one 
would  think,  not  in  the  good  old  tenor  of  the  Bible, 
"  Children  obey  your  parents  in  the  Lord,  for  this  is 
right,"  but  thus:  Parents  obey  your  children.  Some 
may  go  so  far  as  to  say  this  is  right.  "Why  should 
I,  who  am  so  much  superior  to  my  father  and  my 
mother,  bow  down  before  them  ?  Were  they  equal 
to  me ;  did  they  appear  so  well  in  society ;  and,  espe- 
cially, were  they  not  in  destitute  circumstances  I 
could  respect  them.  But"-— my  young  friend,  pause 
—  God,  nature,  and  humanity  forbid  you  to  pursue 
this  strain.  Because  our  parents  are  poor,  are  we 
absolved  from  all  obligations  to  love  and  respect 
them?  Nay,  if  our  father  was  in  narrow  circum- 
stances, and  still  did  all  that  he  could  for  us,  we  owe 
him,  instead  of  less  regard,  an  hundred  fold  the  more. 
If  our  mother,  with  scanty  means,  could  promote  our 
comfort  and  train  us  up  as  she  did,  then,  for  the  sake 
of  reason,  of  right,  of  common  compassion,  let  us  not 
despise  her  in  her  need. 


48  YOUTH. 

Let  every  child,  having  any  pretence  to  heart,  or 
manliness,  or  piety,  and  who  is  so  fortunate  as  to  have 
a  father  or  mother  living,  consider  it  a  sacred  duty  to 
consult  at  any  reasonable,  personal  sacrifice,  the 
known  wishes  of  such  a  parent,  until  that  parent  is  no 
more;  and  our  word  for  it  the  recollection  of  the 
same  through  the  after  pilgrimage  of  life  will  sweeten 
every  sorrow,  will  brighten  every  gladness,  will 
sparkle  every  tear  drop  with  a  joy  ineffable.  But  be 
selfish  still,  have  your  own  way,  consult  your  own 
inclinations,  yield  to  the  bent  of  your  own  desires, 
regardless  of  a  parent's  commands,  and  counsels,  and 
beseechings,  and  tears,  and  as  the  Lord  liveth  your 
life  will  be  a  failure;  because,  "the  eye  that  mocketh 
at  his  father,  and  despiseth  to  obey  his  mother,  the 
ravens  of  the  valley  shall  pick  it  out,  and  the  young 
eagle  shall  eat  it." 

Consider,  finally,  that  if  you  live  on,  the  polluted 
joys  of  youth  cannot  be  the  joys  of  old  age ;  though 
its  guilt  and  the  sting  left  behind,  will  endure.  We 
know  well  that  the  path  of  strict  virtue  is  steep  and 
rugged.  But,  for  the  stern  discipline  of  temperance, 
the  hardship  of  self-denial,  the  crushing  of  appetite 
and  passion,  there  will  be  the  blessed  recompense  of 
cheerful,  healthful  manhood,  and  an  honorable  old 
age.  Yes,  higher  and  better  than  all  temporal 
returns,  live  for  purity  of  speech  and  thought,  live 
for  an  incorruptible  character ;  have  the  courage  to 
begin  the  great  race,  and  the  energy  to  pursue  the 
glorious  prize ;  forsee  your  danger,  arm  against  it, 
trust  in  God  and  you  will  have  nothing  to  fear. 


HOME.  49 


WHAT  a  hallowed  name !  How  full  of  enchant- 
ment and  how  dear  to  the  heart !  Home  is  the  magic 
circle  within  which  the  weary  spirit  finds  refuge ;  it  is 
the  sacred  asylum  to  which  the  care-worn  heart 
retreats  to  find  rest  from  the  toils  and  inquietudes  of 
life. 

Ask  the  lone  wanderer  as  he  plods  his  tedious  way, 
bent  with  the  weight  of  age,  and  white  with  the  frost 
of  years,  ask  him  what  is  home.  He  will  tell  you  "it 
is  a  green  spot  in  memory ;  an  oasis  in  the  desert ;  a 
centre  about  which  the  fondest  recollections  of  his 
grief-oppressed  heart  cling  with  all  the  tenacity  of 
youth's  first  love.  It  was  once  a  glorious,  a  happy 
reality,  but  now  it  rests  only  as  an  image  of  the 
mind." 

Home  !  That  name  touches  every  fiber  of  the  soul, 
and  strikes  every  chord  of  the  human  heart  with  its 
angelic  fingers.  Nothing  but  death  can  break  its  spell. 
What  tender  associations  are  linked  with  home ! 
What  pleasing  images  and  deep  emotions  it  awakens  ! 
It  calls  up  the  fondest  memories  of  life  and  opens  in 
our  nature  the  purest  deepest,  richest  gush  of  conse- 
crated thought  and  feeling. 

Some  years  ago  some  twenty  thousand  people  gath- 
ered in  the  old  Castle  Garden,  New  York,  to  hear 
Jennie  Lind  sing,  as  no  other  songstress  ever  had 
sung,  the  sublime  compositions  of  Beethoven,  Handel, 
etc.  At  length  the  Swedish  Nightingale  thought  of 
4 


50  HOME. 

her  home,  paused,  and  seemed  to  fold  ner  wings  for 
a  higher  flight.  She  began  with  deep  emotion  to 
pour  forth  "Home,  Sweet  Home."  The  audience 
could  not  stand  it.  An  uproar  of  applause  stopped 
the  music.  Tears  gushed  from  those  thousands  like 
rain.  Beethoven  and  Handel  were  forgotten.  After 
a  moment  the  song  came  again,  seemingly  as  from 
heaven,  almost  angelic.  Home,  that  was  the  word 
that  bound  as  with  a  spell  twenty  thousand  souls,  and 
Howard  Payne  triumphed  over  the  great  masters  of 
song.  When  we  look  at  the  brevity  and  simplicity 
of  this  home  song,  we  are  ready  to  ask,  what  is  the 
charm  that  lies  concealed  in  it?  Why  does  the 
dramatist  and  poet  find  his  reputation  resting  on  so 
apparently  narrow  a  basis  ?  The  answer  is  easy. 
Next  to  religion,  the  deepest  and  most  ineradicable 
sentiment  in  the  human  soul  is  that  of  the  home  affec- 
tions. Every  heart  vibrates  to  this  theme. 

Home  has  an  influence  which  is  stronger  than  death. 
It  is  law  to  our  hearts,  and  binds  us  with  a  spell  which 
neither  time  nor  change  can  break;  the  darkest  vil- 
lainies which  have  disgraced  humanity  cannot  neutral- 
ize it.  Gray-haired  and  demon  guilt  will  make  his 
dismal  cell  the  sacred  urn  of  tears  wept  over  the 
memories  of  home,  and  these  will  soften  and  melt 
into  tears  of  penitence  even  the  heart  of  adamant. 

Ask  the  little  child  what  is  home  ?  You  will  find 
that  to  him  it  is  the  world  —  he  knows  no  other.  The 
father's  love,  the  mother's  smile,  the  sister's  embrace, 
the  brother's  welcome,  throw  about  his  home  a 
heavenly  halo,  and  make  it  as  attractive  to  him  as  the 


HOME.  51 

home  of  the  angels.  Home  is  the  spot  where  the  child 
pours  out  all  its  complaints,  and  it  is  the  grave  of  all 
its  sorrows.  Childhood  has  its  sorrows  and  its 
grievances,  but  home  is  the  place  where  these  are 
soothed  and  banished  by  the  sweet  lullaby  of  a  fond 
mother's  voice. 

Was  paradise  an  abode  of  purity  and  peace?  or 
will  the  New  Eden  above  be  one  of  unmingled  beati- 
tude? Then  "the  Paradise  of  Childhood,"  "the 
Eden  of  Home,"  are  names  applied  to  the  family 
abode.  In  that  paradise,  all  may  appear  as  smiling 
and  serene  to  childhood  as  the  untainted  garden  did 
to  unfallen  man ;  even  the  remembrance  of  it,  amid 
distant  scenes  of  woe,  has  soothed  some  of  the  sad- 
dest hours  of  life,  and  crowds  of  mourners  have 
spoken  of 

"A  home,  that  paradise  below 
Of  sunshine,  and  of  flowers, 
Where  hallowed  joys  perennial  flow 
By  calm  sequester'd  bowers." 

There  childhood  nestles  like  a  bird  which  has  built 
its  abode  among  roses ;  there  the  cares  and  the  cold- 
ness of  earth  are,  as  long  as  possible,  averted. 
Flowers  there  bloom,  or  fruits  invite  on  every  side, 
and  there  paradise  would  indeed  be  restored,  could 
mortal  power  ward  off  the  consequences  of  sin.  This 
new  garden  of  the  Lord  would  then  abound  in 
beauty  unsullied,  and  trees  of  the  Lord's  planting, 
bearing  fruit  to  his  glory,  would  be  found  in  plenty 
there --it  would  be  reality,  and  not  mere  poetry,  to 
speak  of 

"  My  own  dear  quiet  home, 
The  Ed«n  pf  my  heart." 

• 


52  HOME. 

Home  of  our  childhood !  What  words  fall  upon 
the  ear  with  so  much  of  music  in  their  cadence  as 
those  which  recall  the  scenes  of  innocent  and  happy 
childhood,  now  numbered  with  the  memories  of  the 
past !  How  fond  recollection  delights  to  dwell  upon 
the  events  which  marked  our  early  pathway,  when 
the  unbroken  home-circle  presented  a  scene  of  loveli- ' 
ness  vainly  sought  but  in  the  bosom  of  a  happy  fam- 
ily !  Intervening  years  have  not  dimmed  the  vivid 
coloring  with  which  memory  has  adorned  those  joyous 
hours  of  youthful  innocence.  We  are  again  borne  on 
the  wings  of  imagination  to  the  place  made  sacred 
by  the  remembrance  of  a  father's  care,  a  mother's 
love,  and  the  cherished  associations  of  brothers  and 
sisters. 

Home  !  How  often  we  hear  persons  speak  of  the 
home  of  their  childhood.  Their  minds  seem  to  de- 
light in  dwelling  upon  the  recollections  of  joyous 
days  spent  beneath  the  parental  roof,  when  their 
young  and  happy  hearts  were  as  light  and  free 
as  the  birds  that  made  the  woods  resound  with  the 
melody  of  their  cheerful  voices.  What  a  blessing  it 
is,  when  weary  with  care  and  burdened  with  sorrow, 
to  have  a  home  to  which  we  can  go,  and  there,  in  the 
midst  of  friends  we  love,  forget  our  troubles  and  dwell 
in  peace  and  quietness. 

There  is  no  happiness  in  life,  there  is  no  misery 
like  that  growing  out  of  the  dispositions  which  con- 
secrate or  desecrate  a  home.  Peace  at  home,  that  is 
the  boon.  "He  is  happiest,  be  he  king  or  peasant, 
who  finds  peace  in  his  home."  Home  should  be 


HOME.  53 

made  so  truly  home  that  the  weary  tempted  heart 
could  turn  toward  it  anywhere  on  the  diiSty  highway 
of  life  and  receive  light  and  strength.  It  should  be 
the  sacred  refuge  of  our  lives,  whether  rich  or  poor. 
The  affections  and  loves  of  home  are  graceful  things, 
especially  among  the  poor.  The  ties  that  bind  the 
wealthy  and  the  proud  to  home  may  be  forged  on  earth, 
but  those  which  link  the  poor  man  to  his  humble 
hearth  are  of  the  true  metal  and  bear  the  stamp  of 
heaven.  These  affections  and  loves  constitute  the 
poetry  of  human  life,  and,  so  far  as  our  present 
existence  is  concerned  with  all  the  domestic  relations, 
are  worth  more  than  all  other  social  ties.  They  give 
the  first  throb  to  the  heart  and  unseal  the  deep  foun- 
tains of  its  love.  Home  is  the  chief  school  of  human 
virtue.  Its  responsibilities,  joys,  sorrows,  smiles, 
tears,  hopes,  and  solicitudes  form  the  chief  interest  of 
human  life. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  world  which  is  so  venerable 
as  the  character  of  parents ;  nothing  so  intimate  and 
endearing  as  the  relation  of  husband  and  wife ;  noth- 
ing so  tender  as  that  of  parents  and  children ;  noth- 
ing so  lovely  as  those  of  brothers  and  sisters.  The 
little  circle  is  made  one  by  a  singular  union  of  the 
affections.  The  only  fountain  in  the  wilderness  of 
life,  where  man  drinks  of  water  totally  unmixed  with 
bitter  ingredients,  is  that  which  gushes  for  him  in 
the  calm  and  shady  recess  of  domestic  life.  Pleasure 
may  heat  the  heart  with  artificial  excitement,  ambi- 
tion may  delude  it  with  golden  dreams,  war  may 
eradicate  its  fine  fibres  and  diminish  its  sensitiveness, 


54  HOME. 

but  it  is  only  domestic  love  that  can  render  it  truly 
happy. 

Even  as  the  sunbeam  is  composed  of  millions  of 
minute  rays,  the  home  life  must  be  constituted  of 
little  tendernesses,  kind  looks,  sweet  laughter,  gentle 
words,  loving  counsels;  it  must  not  be  like  the  torch- 
blaze  of  natural  excitement  which  is  easily  quenched, 
but  like  the  serene,  chastened  light  which  burns  as 
safely  in  the  dry  east  wind  as  in  the  stillest  atmos- 
phere. Let  each  bear  the  other's  burden  the  while  — 
let  each  cultivate  the  mutual  confidence  which  is  a 
gift  capable  of  increase  and  improvement  —  and  soon 
it  will  be  found  that  kindliness  will  spring  up  on  every 
side,  displacing  constitutional  unsuitability,  want  of 
mutual  knowledge,  even  as  we  have  seen  sweet 
violets  and  primroses  dispelling  the  gloom  of  the  gray 
sea-rocks. 

There  is  nothing  on  earth  so  beautiful  as  the 
household  on  which  Christian  love  forever  smiles, 
and  where  religion  walks  a  counselor  and  a  friend. 
No  cloud  can  darken  it,  for  its  twin-stars  are  centered 
in  the  soul.  No  storms  can  make  it  tremble,  for  it  has 
a  heavenly  support  and  a  heavenly  anchor. 

Home  is  a  place  of  refuge.  Tossed  day  by  day 
upon  the  rough  and  stormy  ocean  of  life  —  harassed 
by  worldly  cares,  and  perplexed  by  worldly  inqui- 
etudes, the  weary  spirit  yearns  after  repose.  It  seeks 
and  finds  it  in  the  refuge  which  home  supplies. 
Here  the  mind  is  at  rest ;  the  heart's  turmoil  becomes 
quiet,  and  the  spirit  basks  in  the  peaceful  delights  of 
domestic  love. 


HOME.  55 

Yes,  home  is  a  place  of  rest — we  feel  it  so  when 
we  seek  and  enter  it  after  the  busy  cares  and  trials  of 
the  day  are  over.  We  may  find  joy  elsewhere,  but  it 
is  not  the  joy,  the  satisfaction  of  home.  Of  the 
world  the  heart  may  soon  tire ;  of  the  home,  never. 
In  the  former  there  is  much  of  cold  formality,  much 
heartlessness  under  the  garb  of  friendship,  but  in  the 
latter  it  is  all  heart  —  all  friendship  of  the  purest, 
truest  character. 

The  road  along  which  the  man  of  business  travels 
in  pursuit  of  competence  or  wealth  is  not  a  Macadam- 
ized one,  nor  does  it  ordinarily  lead  through  pleasant 
scenes  and  by  well-springs  of  delight.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  is  a  rough  and  rugged  path,  beset  with  "wait- 
a-bit"  thorns  and  full  of  pit-falls,  which  can  only  be 
avoided  by  the  watchful  care  of  circumspection.  After 
every  day's  journey  over  this  worse  than  rough  turn- 
pike road,  the  wayfarer  needs  something  more  than 
rest ;  he  requires  solace,  and  he  deserves  it.  He  is 
weary  of  the  dull  prose  of  life,  and  athirst  for  the 
poetry.  Happy  is  the  business  man  who  can  find 
that  solace  and  that  poetry  at  home.  Warm  greet- 
ings from  loving  hearts,  fond  glances  from  bright 
eyes,  the  welcome  shouts  of  children,  the  many  thou- 
sand little  arrangements  for  our  comfort  and  enjoy- 
ment that  silently  tell  of  thoughtful  and  expectant 
love,  the  gentle  ministrations  that  disencumber  us  and 
force  us  into  an  old  and  easy  seat  before  we  are 
aware  of  it;  these  and  like  tokens  of  affection  and 
sympathy  constitute  the  poetry  which  reconciles  us  to 
the  prose  of  life.  Think  of  this,  ye  wives  and  daugh- 


56 


HOME. 


ters  of  business  men !  Think  of  the  toils,  the  anxie- 
ties, the  mortification,  and  wear  that  fathers  undergo 
to  secure  for  you  comfortable  homes,  and  compensate 
them  for  their  trials  by  making  them  happy  by  their 
own  firesides. 

Is  it  not  true,  that  much  of  a  man's  energy  and 
success,  as  well  as  happiness,  depends  upon  the 
character  of  his  home  ?  Secure  there,  he  goes  forth 
bravely  to  encounter  the  trials  of  life.  It  encourages 
him  to  think  of  his  pleasant  home.  It  is  his  point  of 
rest.  The  thought  of  a  dear  wife  shortens  the  dis- 
tance of  a  journey,  and  alleviates  the  harassings  of 
business.  It  is  a  reserved  power  to  fall  back  upon. 
Home  and  home  friends !  How  dear  they  are  to  us 
all !  Well  might  we  love  to  linger  on  the  picture  of 
home  friends !  When  all  other  friends  prove  false, 
home  friends,  removed  from  every  bias  but  love,  are 
the  steadfast  and  sure  stays  of  our  peace  of  soul, — 
are  best  and  dearest  when  the  hour  is  darkest  and  the 
danger  of  evil  the  greatest.  But  if  one  have  none  to 
care  for  him  at  home, — if  there  be  neglect,  or  love  of 
absence,  or  coldness,  in  our  home  and  on  our  hearth, 
then,  even  if  we  prosper  without,  it  is  dark  indeed 
within !  It  is  not  seldom  that  we  can  trace  alienation 
and  dissipation  to  this  source.  If  no  wife  or  sister  care 
for  him  who  returns  from  his  toil,  well  may  he  despair 
of  life's  best  blessings.  Without  home  friends, 
Home  is  nothing  but  a  name. 

The  sweetest  type  of  heaven  is  home  —  nay, 
heaven  itself  is  the  home  for  whose  acquisition  we 
are  to  strive  the  most  strongly.  Home,  in  one  form 


HOME.  57 

and  another,  is  the  great  object  of  life.  It  stands  at 
the  end  of  every  day's  labor,  and  beckons  us  to  its 
bosom ;  and  life  would  be  cheerless  and  meaningless 
did  we  not  discern,  across  the  river  that  divides  it  from 
the  life  beyond,  glimpses  of  the  pleasant  mansions 
prepared  for  us. 

Heaven!  that  land  of  quiet  rest — toward  which 
those,  who,  worn  down  and  tired  with  the  toils  of 
earth,  direct  their  frail  barks  over  the  troubled  waters 
of  life,  and  after  a  long  and  dangerous  passage,  find 
it — safe  in  the  haven  of  eternal  bliss.  Heaven  is 
the  home  that  awaits  us  beyond  the  grave.  There 
the  friendships  formed  on  earth,  and  which  cruel 
death  has  severed,  are  never  more  to  be  broken ;  and 
parted  friends  shall  meet  again,  never  more  to  be 
separated. 

It  is  an  inspiring  hope  that,  when  we  separate  here 
on  earth  at  the  summons  of  death's  angel,  and  when 
a  few  more  years  have  rolled  over  the  heads  of  those 
remaining,  if  " faithful  unto  death,"  we  shall  meet 
again  in  heaven,  our  eternal  home,  there  to  dwell  in 
the  presence  of  our  Heavenly  Father,  and  go  no  more 
out  forever. 

At  the  best  estate,  we  are  only  pilgrims  and 
strangers.  Heaven  is  to  be  our  eternal  home.  Death 
will  never  knock  at  the  door  of  that  mansion,  and  in 
all  that  land  there  will  not  be  a  single  grave. 
Aged  parents  rejoice  very  much  when  on  Christmas 
Day  or  Thanksgiving  Day  they  have  their  children  at 
home ;  but  there  is  almost  always  a  son  or  a  daughter 
absent — absent  from  the  country,  perhaps  absent 


58  HOME. 

from  the  world.  But  Oh,  how  our  Heavenly  Father 
will  rejoice  in  the  long-  thanksgiving  day  of  heaven, 
when  He  has  all  His  children  with  Him  in  glory ! 
How  glad  brothers  and  sisters  will  be  to  meet  after 
so  long  a  separation !  Perhaps  a  score  of  years  ago 
they  parted  at  the  door  of  the  tomb.  Now  they 
meet  again  at  the  door  of  immortality.  Once  they 
looked  through  a  glass  darkly.  Now,  face  to  face, 
corruption,  incorruption  —  mortality,  immortatlity. 
Where  are  now  all  their  sorrows  and  temptations  and 
trials  ?  Overwhelmed  in  the  Red  Sea  of  death,  while 
they,  dry-shod,  marched  into  glory.  Gates  of  jasper 
cap-stone  of  amethyst !  Thrones  of  dominion  do  not 
so  much  affect  my  soul  as  the  thought  of  home.  Once 
there,  let  earthly  sorrows  howl  like  storms  and  roll 
like  seas.  Home !  Let  thrones  rot  and  empires 
wither.  Home !  Let  the  world  die  in  earthquake 
struggles  and  be  buried  amid  procession  of  planets 
and  dirge  of  spheres.  Home  !  Let  everlasting  ages 
roll  in  irresistible  sweep.  Home !  No  sorrow,  no 
crying,  no  tears,  no  death  ;  but  home !  sweet  home  ! 
Beautiful  home !  Glorious  home !  Everlasting 
home  !  Home  with  each  other !  Home  with  angels  ! 
Home  with  God !  Home,  Home  !  Through  the  rich 
grace  of  Christ  Jesus,  may  we  all  reach  it. 


FAMILY    WORSHIP.  59 


A  PRAYERLESS  family  cannot  be  otherwise  than 
irreligious.  They  who  daily  pray  in  their  homes,  do 
well  ;  they  that  not  only  pray,  but  read  the  Bible,  do 
better;  but  they  do  best  of  all,  who  not  only  pray 
and  read  the  Bible,  but  sing-  the  praises  of  God. 

What  scene  can  be  more  lovely  on  earth,  more  like 
the  heavenly  home,  and  more  pleasing  to  God,  than 
that  of  a  pious  family  kneeling  with  one  accord  around 
the  home-altar,  and  uniting  their  supplications  to  their 
Father  in  heaven  !  How  sublime  the  act  of  those 
parents  who  thus  pray  for  the  blessing  of  God  upon 
their  household  !  How  lovely  the  scene  of  a  pious 
mother  gathering  her  little  ones  around  her  at  the 
bedside,  and  teaching  them  the  privilege  of  prayer  ! 
And  what  a  safeguard  is  this  devotion,  against  all  the 
machinations  of  Satan  ! 

It  is  this  which  makes  home  a  type  of  heaven,  the 
dwelling  place  of  God.  The  family  altar  is  heaven's 
threshold.  And  happy  are  those  children  who  at  that 
altar  have  been  consecrated  by  a  father's  blessing, 
baptised  by  a  mother's  tears,  and  borne  up  to  heaven 
upon  their  joint  petitions,  as  a  voluntary  thank-offer- 
ing to  God.  The  home  that  has  honored  God  with 
an  altar  of  devotion  may  well  be  called  blessed. 

The  influence  of  family  worship  is  great,  silent, 
irresistible  and  permanent.  Like  the  calm,  deep 
stream,  it  moves  on  in  silent,  but  overwhelming  power. 
It  strikes  its  roots  deep  into  the  human  heart,  and 


FAMILY    WORSHIP. 


spreads  its  branches  wide  over  the  whole  being,  like 
the  lily  that  braves  the  tempest,  and  the  Alpine  flower 
that  leans  its  cheek  upon  the  bosom  of  eternal  snows 
—  it  is  exerted  amid  the  wildest  storms  of  life,  and 
breathes  a  softening  spell  in  our  bosom,  even  when  a 
heartless  world  is  drying  up  the  fountains  of  sympa- 
thy and  love. 

It  affords  home  security  and  happiness,  removes 
family  friction,  and  causes  all  the  complicated  wheels 
of  the  home-machinery  to  move  on  noiselessly  and 
smoothly.  It  promotes  union  and  harmony,  expunges 
all  selfishness,  allays  petulant  feelings  and  turbulent 
passions,  destroys  peevishness  of  temper  and  makes 
home  intercourse  holy  and  delightful.  It  causes  the 
members  to  reciprocate  each  other's  affections,  hushes 
the  voice  of  recrimination,  and  exerts  a  softening  and 
harmonizing  influence  over  each  heart.  The  dew  of 
Heaven  falls  upon  the  home  where  prayer  is  wont  to 
be  made.  Its  members  enjoy  the  good  and  the  pleas- 
antness of  dwelling  together  in  unity.  It  gives  tone 
and  intensity  to  their  affections  and  sympathies  ;  it 
throws  a  sunshine  around  their  hopes  and  interests  ; 
it  increases  their  happiness,  and  takes  away  the  poig- 
nancy of  their  grief  and  sorrow.  It  availeth  much, 
therefore,  both  for  time  and  eternity.  Its  voice  has 
sent  many  a  poor  prodigal  home  to  his  father's  house. 
Its  answer  has  often  been,  "This  man  was  born 
there  !"  The  child,  kneeling  beside  the  pious  mother, 
and  pouring  forth  its  infant  prayer  to  God,  must 
attract  the  notice  of  the  heavenly  host,  and  receive 
into  its  soul  the  power  of  a  new  life. 


FAMILY    WORSHIP.  Q^ 

But  in  order  to  do  this,  the  worship  must  be  regu- 
lar and  devout,  and  the  whole  family  engage  in  it. 
Some  families  are  not  careful  to  have  their  children 
present  when  they  worship.  This  is  very  wrong. 
The  children,  above  all  others,  are  benefited,  and 
should  always  be  present.  Some  do  not  teach  the 
children  to  kneel  during  prayer,  and  hence,  they 
awkwardly  sit  in  their  seats,  while  the  parents  kneel. 
This  is  a  sad  mistake.  If  they  do  not  kneel,  they 
naturally  suppose  they  have  no  part  or  lot  in  the 
devotions,  and  soon  feel  that  it  is  wrong  for  them  to 
bow  before  the  Lord.  We  have  seen  many  cases 
where  grown  up  sons  and  daughters  have  never  bent 
the  knee  before  the  Lord,  and  thought  it  wrong  to 
kneel  till  they  were  Christians.  In  this  way  they 
were  made  more  shy  and  stubborn,  and  felt  that  there 
was  an  impassable  barrier  between  them  and  Christ. 
This  feeling  is  wrong,  and  unnecessary.  If  family 
worship  had  been  rightly  observed,  they  would  have 
felt  that  they  were  very  near  the  Savior,  and  would 
easily  be  inclined  to  give  their  hearts  to  him.  Indeed, 
children  thus  trained,  seldom  grow  to  maturity  without 
becoming  practical  Christians. 

Family  worship  in  itself  embodies  a  hallowing  influ- 
ence that  pleads  for  its  observance.  It  must  needs  be 
that  trials  will  enter  a  household.  The  conflict  of 
wishes,  the  clashing  of  views,  and  a  thousand  other 
causes,  will  ruffle  the  temper,  and  produce  jar  and 
friction  in  the  machinery  of  the  family.  There  is 
needed,  then,  some  daily  agency  that  shall  softly 
enfold  the  homestead  with  its  hallowed  and  soothing 


62  FAMILY    WORSHIP. 

power,  and  restore  the  fine,  harmonious  play  of  its 
various  parts.  The  father  needs  that  which  shall 
gently  lift  away  from  his  thoughts  the  disquieting 
burden  of  his  daily  business.  The  mother  that  which 
shall  smooth  down  the  fretting  irritation  of  her  un- 
ceasing toil  and  trial ;  and  the  child  and  domestic  that 
which  shall  neutralize  the  countless  agencies  of  evil 
that  ever  beset  them.  And  what  so  well  adapted  to 
do  this,  as  for  all  to  gather,  when  the  day  is  done, 
around  the  holy  page,  and  pour  a  united  supplication 
and  acknowledgment  to  that  sleepless  Power,  whose 
protection  and  scrutiny  are  ever  around  their  path, 
and  who  will  bring  all  things  at  last  into  judgment? 
And  when  darker  and  sadder  days  begin  to  shadow 
the  home,  what  can  cheer  and  brighten  the  sinking 
heart  so  much  as  resort  to  that  fatherly  One  who  can 
make  the  tears  of  the  loneliest  sorrow  to  be  the  seed- 
pearls  of  the  brightest  crown?  See  what  home  becomes 
with  religion  as  its  life  and  rule !  Human  nature  is 
there  checked  and  molded  by  the  amiable  spirit  and 
lovely  character  of  Jesus.  The  mind  is  expanded, 
the  heart  softened,  sentiments  refined,  passions  sub- 
dued, hopes  elevated,  pursuits  ennobled,  the  world 
cast  into  the  shade,  and  heaven  realized  as  the  first 
prize.  The  great  want  of  our  intellectual  and  moral 
nature  is  here  met,  and  home  education  becomes  im- 
pregnated with  the  spirit  and  elements  of  our  prepara- 
tion for  eternity. 

Compare  an  irreligious  home  with  this,  and  see  the 
vast  importance  of  family  worship.  It  is  a  moral 
waste ;  its  members  move  in  the  putrid  atmosphere 


FAMILY    WORSHIP.  03 

of  vitiated  feeling  and  misdirected  power.  Brutal 
passions  become  dominant ;  we  hear  the  stern  voice 
of  parental  despotism ;  we  behold  a  scene  of  filial  strife 
and  insubordination ;  there  is  throughout  a  heart- 
blank.  Domestic  life  becomes  clouded  by  a  thousand 
crosses  and  disappointments ;  the  solemn  realities  of 
the  eternal  \vorld  are  cast  into  the  shade ;  the  home- 
conscience  and  feeling  become  stultified ;  the  sense  of 
moral  duty  distorted,  and  all  the  true  interests  of 
home  appear  in  a  haze.  Natural  affection  is  debased, 
and  love  is  prostituted  to  the  base  designs  of  self,  and 
the  entire  family,  with  all  its  tender  chords,  ardent 
hopes,  and  promised  interests,  becomes  engulfed  in 
the  vortex  of  criminal  worldliness  ! 

Family  worship  is  included  in  the  necessities  of  our 
children,  and  in  the  covenant  promises  of  God.  The 
penalties  of  its  neglect,  and  the  rewards  of  our  faithful- 
ness to  it,  should  prompt  us  to  its  establishment  in 
our  homes.  Its  absence  is  a  curse;  its  presence  a 
blessing.  It  is  a  foretaste  of  heaven.  Like  manna, 
it  will  feed  our  souls,  quench  our  thirst,  sweeten 
the  cup  of  life,  and  shed  a  halo  of  glory  and  of  glad- 
ness around  our  firesides.  Let  yours,  therefore,  be 
the  religious  home ;  and  then  be  sure  that  God  will 
delight  to  dwell  therein,  and  His  blessing  will 
descend  upon  it.  Your  children  shall  "not  be  found 
begging  bread,"  but  shall  be  like  "olive  plants  around 
your  table," — the  "heritage  of  the  Lord."  Yours  will 
be  the  home  of  love  and  harmony ;  it  shall  have  the 
charter  of  family  rights  and  privileges,  the  ward  of 
family  interests,  the  palladium  of  family  hopes  and 


64  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

happiness.  Your  household  piety  will  be  the  crowning 
attribute  of  your  peaceful  home, —  the  living-  stars 
that  shall  adorn  the  night  of  its  tribulation,  and  the 
pillar  of  cloud  and  of  fire  in  its  pilgrimage  to  a  "better 
country."  It  shall  strew  the  family  threshold  with  the 
flowers  of  promise,  and  enshrine  the  memory  of  loved 
ones  gone  before,  in  all  the  fragrance  of  that  "blessed 
hope"  of  reunion  in  heaven  which  looms  up  from  a 
dying  hour.  It  shall  give  to  the  infant  soul  its 
"perfect  flowering,"  and  expand  it  in  all  the  fullness 
of  a  generous  love  and  conscious  blessedness,  making 
it  "lustrous  in  the  livery  of  divine  knowledge."  And 
then  in  the  dark  hour  of  home  separation  and  bereave- 
ment, when  the  question  is  put  to  you,  mourning 
parents,  "Is  it  well  with  the  child?  is  it  well  with 
thee?"  you  can  answer  with  joy,  "It  is  well!" 


OUR  nature  demands  home.  It  is  the  first  essen- 
tial element  of  our  social  being.  This  cannot  be 
complete  without  the  home  relations ;  there  would  be 
no  proper  equilibrium  of  life  and  character  without 
the  home  influence.  The  heart,  when  bereaved  and 
disappointed,  naturally  turns  for  refuge  to  home-life 
and  sympathy.  No  spot  is  so  attractive  to  the  weary 
one ;  it  is  the  heart's  moral  oasis.  There  is  a  mother's 
watchful  love  and  a  father's  sustaining  influence; 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  (35 

there  is  a  husband's  protection  and  a  wife's  tender 
sympathy;  there  is  the  circle  of  loving  brothers  and 
sisters  —  happy  in  each  other's  love.  Oh,  what  is 
life  without  these !  A  desolation,  a  painful,  gloomy 
pilgrimage  through  "desert  heaths  and  barren  sands." 

Home  influence  maybe  estimated  from  the  immense 
force  of  its  impressions.  It  is  the  prerogative  of 
home  to  make  the  first  impression  upon  our  nature, 
and  to  give  that  nature  its  first  direction  onward  and 
upward.  It  uncovers  the  moral  fountain,  chooses  its 
channel,  and  gives  the  stream  its  first  impulse.  It 
makes  the  "first  stamp  and  sets  the  first  seal"  upon 
the  plastic  nature  of  the  child.  It  gives  the  first  tone 
to  our  desires  and  furnishes  ingredients  that  will 
either  sweeten  or  embitter  the  whole  cup  of  life. 
These  impressions  are  indelible  and  durable  as  life. 
Compared  with  them,  other  impressions  are  like  those 
made  upon  sand  or  wax.  These  are  like  "the  deep 
borings  into  the  flinty  rock."  To  erase  them  we 
must  remove  every  stratum  of  our  being.  Even  the 
infidel  lives  under  the  holy  influence  of  a  pious  moth- 
er's impressions.  John  Randolph  could  never  shake 
off  the  restraining  influence  of  a  little  prayer  his 
mother  taught  him  when  a  child.  It  preserved  him 
from  the  clutches  of  avowed  infidelity. 

The  home  influence  is  either  a  blessing  or  a  curse, 
either  for  good  or  for  evil.  It  cannot  be  neutral. 
In  either  case  it  is  mighty,  commencing  with  our 
bi  th,  going  with  us  through  life,  clinging  to  us  in 
death,  and  reaching  into  the  eternal  world.  It  is 
that  unitive  power  which  arises  out  of  the  manifold 
5 


66  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

relations  and  associations  of  domestic  life.  The  spe- 
cific influences  of  husband  and  wife,  of  parent  and 
child,  of  brother  and  sister,  of  teacher  and  pupil, 
united  and  harmoniously  blended,  constitute  the  home 
influence. 

From  this  we  may  infer  the  character  of  home 
influence.  It  is  great,  silent,  irresistible  and  perma- 
nent. Like  the  calm,  deep  stream,  it  moves  on  in 
silent,  but  overwhelming'  power.  It  strikes  its  roots 
deep  into  the  human  heart,  and  spreads  its  branches 
wide  over  our  whole  being.  It  is  exerted  amid  the 
wildest  storms  of  life  and  breathes  a  softening  spell 
in  our  bosom  even  when  a  heartless  world  is  freezing 
up  the  fountains  of  sympathy  and  love.  It  is  govern- 
ing, restraining,  attracting  and  traditional.  It  holds 
the  empire  of  the  heart  and  rules  the  life.  It  restrains 
the  wayward  passions  of  the  child  and  checks  him  in 
his  mad  career  of  ruin. 

Our  habits,  too,  are  formed  under  the  molding 
power  of  home.  The  "tender  twig"  is  there  bent, 
the  spirit  shaped,  principles  implanted,  and  the  whole 
character  is  formed  until  it  becomes  a  habit.  Good- 
ness or  evil  are  there  "resolved  into  necessity." 
Who  does  not  feel  this  influence  of  home  upon  all 
his  habits  of  life  ?  The  gray-haired  father  who  wails 
in  his  second  infancy  feels  the  traces  of  his  childhood 
home  in  his  spirit,  desires  and  habits.  Ask  the 
strong  man  in  the  prime  of  life  whether  the  most  firm 
and  reliable  principles  of  his  character  were  not  the 
inheritance  of  a  parental  home. 

The    most  illustrious  statesmen,  the    most    distin- 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  67 

goiished  warriors,  the  most  eloquent  ministers,  and  the 
greatest  benefactors  of  human  kind,  owe  their  great- 
ness to  the  fostering  influence  of  home.  Napoleon 
knew  and  felt  this  when  he  said,  "What  France  wants 
is  good  mothers,  and  you  may  be  sure  then  that 
France  will  have  good  sons."  The  homes  of  the 
American  revolution  made  the  men  of  the  revolution. 
Their  influence  reaches  yet  far  into  the  inmost  frame 
and  constitution  of  our  glorious  republic.  It  controls 
the  fountains  of  her  power,  forms  the  character  of 
her  citizens  and  statesmen,  and  shapes  our  destiny  as 
a  people.  Did  not  the  Spartan  mother  and  her  home 
give  character  to  the  Spartan  nation  ?  Her  lessons 
to  her  child  infused  the  iron  nerve  into  the  heart  of 
that  nation,  and  caused  her  sons,  in  the  wild  tumult 
of  battle,  "either  to  live  behind  their  shields,  or  to 
die  upon  them  !"  Her  influence  fired  them  with  a 
patriotism  which  was  stronger  than  death.  Had  it 
been  hallowed  by  the  pure  spirit  and  principles  of 
Christianity  what  a  power  of  good  it  would  have 
been ! 

But  alas !  the  home  of  an  Aspasia  had  not  the 
heart  and  ornaments  of  the  Christian  family.  Though 
"the  monuments  of  Cornelia's  virtues  were  the  char- 
acter of  her  children,"  yet  these  were  not  "the  orna^ 
ments  of  a  quiet  spirit."  Had  the  central  heart  oi 
the  Spartan  home  been  that  of  the  Christian  mother, 
the  Spartan  nation  would  now  perhaps  adorn  the 
brightest  page  of  his?  ory. 

Home,  in  all  well  c<  instituted  minds,  is  always  asso- 
ciated with  moral  and  social  excellence.  The  higher 


68  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

men  rise  in  the  scale  of  being,  the  more  important 
and  interesting  is  home.  The  Arab  or  forest  man 
may  care  little  for  his  home,  but  the  Christian  man  of 
cultured  heart  and  developed  mind  will  love  his  home, 
and  generally  love  it  in  proportion  to  his  moral  worth. 
He  knows  it  is  the  planting-ground  or  every  seed  of 
morality  —  the  garden  of  virtue,  and  the  nursery  of 
religion.  He  knows  that  souls  immortal  are  here 
trained  for  the  skies ;  that  private  worth  and  public 
character  are  made  in  its  sacred  retreat.  To  love 
home  with  a  deep  and  abiding  interest,  with  a  view 
to  its  elevating  influence,  is  to  love  truth  and  right, 
heaven  and  God. 

Our  life  abroad  is  but  a  reflex  of  what  it  is  at 
home.  We  make  ourselves  in  a  great  measure  at 
home.  This  is  especially  true  of  woman.  The  woman 
who  is  rude,  coarse  and  vulgar  at  home,  cannot  be 
expected  to  be  amiable,  chaste  and  refined  in  the 
world.  Her  home  habits  will  stick  to  her.  She  can- 
not shake  them  off.  They  are  woven  into  the  web 
of  her  life.  Her  home  language  will  be  first  on  her 
tongue.  Her  home  by-words  will  come  out  to  mortify 
her  just  when  she  wants  most  to  hide  them  in  her 
heart.  Her  home  vulgarities  will  show  their  hideous 
forms  to  shock  her  most  when  she  wants  to  appear 
her  best.  Her  home  coarseness  will  appear  most 
when  she  is  in  the  most  refined  circles,  and  appearing 
there  will  abash  her  more  than  elsewhere.  All  her 
home  habits  will  follow  her.  They  have  become  a 
sort  of  second  nature  to  her.  It  is  much  the  same 
with  men.  It  is  indeed  there  that  every  man  must 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  69 

be  known  by  those  who  would  make  a  just  estimate 
either  of  his  virtue  or  felicity ;  for  smiles  and  embroid- 
ery are  alike  occasional,  and  the  mind  is  often  dressed 
for  show  in  painted  honor  and  fictitious  benevolence. 
Every  young-  woman  should  feel  that  just  what  she  is 
at  home  she  will  appear  abroad.  If  she  attempts  to 
appear  otherwise,  everybody  will  soon  see  through 
the  attempt.  We  cannot  cheat  the  world  long-  about 
our  real  characters.  The  thickest  and  most  opaque 
mask  we  can  put  on  will  soon  become  transparent. 
This  fact  we  should  believe  without  a  doubt.  Decep- 
tion most  often  deceives  itself.  The  deceiver  is  the 
most  deceived.  The  liar  is  often  the  only  one  cheated. 
The  young  woman  who  pretends  to  what  she  is  not, 
believes  her  pretense  is  not  understood.  Other  peo- 
ple laugh  in  their  sleeves  at  her  foolish  pretensions. 
Every  young  woman  should  early  form  in  her  mind 
an  ideal  of  a  true  home.  It  should  not  be  the  ideal  of 
a  place,  but  of  the  character  of  home.  Place  does 
not  constitute  home.  Many  a  gilded  palace  and  scene 
of  luxury  is  not  a  home.  Many  a  flower-girt  dwell- 
ing and  splendid  mansion  lacks  all  the  essentials  of 
home.  A  hovel  is  often  more  a  home  than  a  palace. 
If  the  spirit  of  the  congenial  friendship  link  not  the 
hearts  of  the  inmates  of  a  dwelling  it  is  not  a  home. 
If  love  reign  not  there;  if  charity  spread  not  her 
downy  mantle  over  all ;  if  peace  prevail  not ;  if  con- 
tentment be  not  a  meek  and  merry  dweller  therein ; 
if  virtue  rear  not  her  beautiful  children,  and  religion 
come  not  in  her  white  robe  of  gentleness  to  lay  her 
hand  in  benediction  on  every  head,  the  home  is  not 


70  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

complete.  We  are  all  in  the  habit  of , building  for  our- 
selves ideal  homes.  But  they  are  generally  made  up 
of  outward  things  —  a  house,  a  garden,  a  carriage, 
and  the  ornaments  and  appendages  of  luxury.  And 
if,  in  our  lives,  we  do  not  realize  our  ideas,  we  make 
ourselves  miserable  and  our  friends  miserable.  Half 
the  women  in  our  country  are  unhappy  because  their 
homes  are  not  so  luxurious  as  they  wish. 

The  grand  idea  of  home  is  a  quiet,  secluded  spot, 
Vvhere  loving  hearts  dwell,  set  apart  and  dedicated  to 
improvement — to  intellectual  and  moral  improvement. 
It  is  not  a  formal  school  of  staid  solemnity  and  rigid 
discipline,  where  virtue  is  made  a  task  and  progress  a 
sharp  necessity,  but  a  free  and  easy  exercise  of  all 
our  spiritual  limbs,  in  which  obedience  is  a  pleasure, 
discipline  a  joy,  improvement  a  self-wrought  delight. 
All  the  duties  and  labors  of  home,  when  rightly 
understood,  are  so  many  means  of  improvement. 
Even  the  trials  of  home  are  so  many  rounds  in  the 
ladder  of  spiritual  progress,  if  we  but  make  them  so. 
It  is  not  merely  by  speaking  to  children  about  spirit- 
ual things  that  you  win  them  over.  If  that  be  all  you 
do,  it  will  accomplish  nothing,  less  than  nothing.  It 
is  the  sentiments  which  they  hear  at  home,  it  is  the 
maxims  which  rule  your  daily  conduct  —  the  likings 
and  dislikings  which  you- express  —  the  whole  regula- 
tions of  the  household,  in  dress,  and  food,  and  furni- 
ture—  the  recreations  you  indulge  —  the  company  you 
keep  —  the  style  of  your  reading — the  whole  com- 
plexion of  daily  life  —  this  creates  the  element  in 
which  your  children  are  either  growing  in  grace,  and 


HOME    AMUSEMENTS. 


preparing  for  an  eternity  of  glory  —  or  they  are  learn 
ing  to  live  without  God,  and  to  die  without  hope. 


"  I  HAVE  been  told  by  men,  who  had  passed  un- 
harmed through  the  temptations  of  youth,  that  they 
owed  their  escape  from  many  dangers  to  the  intimate 
companionship  of  affectionate  and  pure-minded  sis- 
Jers.  They  have  been  saved  from  a  hazardous  meet- 
ing with  idle  company  by  some  home  engagement,  of 
which  their  sisters  were  the  charm ;  they  have 
refrained  from  mixing  with  the  impure,  because  they 
would  not  bring  home  thoughts  and  feelings  which 
they  could  not  share  with  those  trusting  and  loving 
friends ;  they  have  put  aside  the  wine-cup,  and 
abstained  from  stronger  potations,  because  they  would 
not  profane  with  their  fumes  the  holy  kiss,  with  which 
they  were  accustomed  to  bid  their  sisters  good-night." 

A  proper  amount  of  labor,  well-spiced  with  sunny 
sports,  is  almost  absolutely  necessary  to  the  formation 
of  a  firm,  hardy,  physical  constitution,  and  a  cheerful 
and  happy  mind.  Let  all  youth  not  only  learn  to 
choose  and  enjoy  proper  amusements,  but  let  them 
learn  to  invent  them  at  home,  and  use  them  there, 
and  thus  form  ideas  of  such  homes  as  they  shall  wish 
to  have  their  own  children  enjoy.  Not  half  the 
people  know  how  to  make  a  home.  It  is  one  of  the 
greatest  and  most  useful  studies  of  life  to  learn  how 


72  HOME    AMUSEMENTS. 

to  make  a  home — ^such  a  home  as  men,  and  women, 
and  children  should  dwell  in.  It  is  a  study  that 
should  be  early  introduced  to  the  attention  of  youth. 
It  would  be  well  if  books  were  written  upon  this  most 
interesting-  subject,  giving  many  practical  rules  and 
hints,  with  a  long  chapter  on  Amusements. 

That  was  a  good  remark  of  Seneca,  when  he  said, 
"Great  is  he  who  enjoys  his  earthen-ware  as  if  it 
were  plate,  and  not  less  great  is  the  man  to  whom 
all  his  plate  is  no  more  than  earthen-ware."  Every 
home  should  be  cheerful.  Innocent  joy  should  reign 
in  every  heart.  There  should  be  domestic  amuse- 
ments, fireside  pleasures,  quiet  and  simple  it  may  be, 
but  such  as  shall  make  home  happy,  and  not  leave  it 
that  irksome  place  which  will  oblige  the  youthful 
spirit  to  look  elsewhere  for  joy.  There  are  a  thous- 
and unobtrusive  ways  in  which  we  may  add  to  the 
cheerfulness  of  home.  The  very  modulations  of  the 
voice  will  often  make  a  wonderful  difference.  How 
many  shades  of  feeling  are  expressed  by  the  voice ! 
what  a  change  comes  over  us  at  the  change  of  its 
tones !  No  delicately  tuned  harpstring  can  awaken 
more  pleasure ;  no  grating  discord  can  pierce  with 
more  pain. 

Let  parents  talk  much  and  talk  well  at  home.  A 
father  who  is  habitually  silent  in  his  own  house,  may 
be  in  many  respects  a  wise  man ;  but  he  is  not  wise 
in  his  silence.  We  sometimes  see  parents,  who  are 
the  life  of  every  company  which  they  enter,  dull, 
silent  and  uninteresting  at  home  among  the  children. 
If  they  have  not  mental  activity  and  mental  stories 


HOME    AMUSEMENTS.  73 

sufficient  for  both,  let  them  first  provide  for  their  own 
household.  Ireland  exports  beef  and  wheat,  and 
lives  on  potatoes ;  and  they  fare  as  poorly  who 
reserve  their  social  charms  for  companions  abroad, 
and  keep  their  dullness  for  home  consumption.  It  is 
better  to  instruct  children  and  make  them  happy  at 
home,  than  it  is  to  charm  strangers  or  amuse  friends. 
A  silent  house  is  a  dull  place  for  young  people,  a 
place  from  which  they  will  escape  if  they  can.  They 
will  talk  of  being  "shut  up"  there;  and  the  youth 
who  does  not  love  home  is  in  danger. 

The  true  mother  loves  to  see  her  son  come  home 
to  her.  He  may  be  almost  as  big  as  her  house ;  a 
whiskerando,  with  as  much  hair  on  his  face  as  would 
stuff  her  arm  chair,  and  she  may  be  a  mere  shred  of 
a  woman;  but  he's  "her  boy;"  and  if  he  grew  twice 
as  big  he'd  be  "her  boy  "still;  aye,  and  if  he  take 
unto  himself  a  wife,  he's  her  boy  still,  for  all  that. 
She  does  not  believe  a  word  of  the  old  rhyme  — 

44  Your  son  is  your  son  till  he  gets  him  a  wife ; 

But  your  daughter's  your  daughter  all  the  days  of  her  life." 

And  what  will  bring  our  boys  back  to  our  home- 
steads, but  our  making  those  homesteads  pleasant 
to  them  in  their  youth.  Let  us  train  a  few  roses 
on  the  humble  wall,  and  their  scent  and  beauty  will 
be  long  remembered ;  and  many  a  lad,  instead  of 
going  to  a  spree,  will  turn  to  his  old  bed,  and  return 
to  his  work  again,  strengthened,  invigorated,  and 
refreshed,  instead  of  battered,  weakened,  and,  per- 
haps, disgraced. 


74  HOME    AMUSEMENTS. 

Fathers,  mothers,  remember  this :  and  if  you  would 
not  have  your  children  lost  to  you  in  after-life  —  if 
you  would  have  your  married  daughters  not  forget 
their  old  home  in  the  new  one  —  if  you  would  have 
your  sons  lend  a  hand  to  keep  you  in  the  old  rose-' 
covered  cottage,  instead  of  letting  you  go  to  the 
naked  walls  of  a  workhouse  —  make  home  happy  to 
them  when  they  are  young.  Send  them  out  into  the 
world  in  the  full  belief  that  there  is  "no  place  like 
home,"  aye,  "be  it  ever  so  humble."  And  even  if  the 
old  home  should,  in  the  course  of  time,  be  pulled 
down,  or  be  lost  to  your  children,  it  will  still  live  in 
their  memories.  The  kind  looks,  and  kind  words, 
and  thoughtful  love  of  those  who  once  inhabited  it, 
will  not  pass  away.  Your  home  will  be  like  the 
poet's  vase  — 

"You  may  break,  you  may  ruin,  the  vase  if  you  will, 
But  the  scent  of  the  roses  will  cling  to  it  still." 

Music  is  an  accomplishment  usually  valuable  as  a 
home  enjoyment,  as  rallying  round  the  piano  the 
various  members  of  a  family,  and  harmonizing  their 
hearts,  as  well  as  their  voices,  particularly  in  devo- 
tional strains.  We  know  no  more  agreeable  and 
interesting  spectacle  than  that  of  brothers  and  sisters 
playing  and  singing  together  those  elevated  composi- 
tions in  music  and  poetry  which  gratify  the  taste  and 
purify  the  heart,  while  their  parents  sit  delighted  by. 
We  have  seers  and  heard  an  elder  sister  thus  leading 
the  family  chcxr,  who  was  the  soul  of  harmony  to  the 
whole  household,  and  whose  life  was  a  perfect  exanr- 


TO    YOUNG    MEN.  75 

pie.  Parents  should  not  fail  to  consider  the  great 
value  of  home  music.  Buy  a  good  instrument  and 
teach  your  family  to  sing-  and  play,  then  they  can 
produce  sufficient  amusement  at  home  themselves  so 
that  the  sons  will  not  think  of  looking  elsewhere  for 
it,  and  thus  often  be  led  into  dens  of  vice  and  immor- 
ality. The  reason  that  so  many  become  dissipated 
and  run  to  every  place  of  amusement,  no  matter  what 
its  character,  making  every  effort  possible  to  get 
away  from  home  at  night,  is  the  lack  of  entertain- 
ment at  home. 


YOUNG  MEN  !  you  are  wanted.  From  the  street 
corners,  from  the  saloons  and  playhouses,  from  the 
loafers'  rendezvous,  from  the  idlers'  promenade,  turn 
your  steps  into  the  highway  of  noble  aim  and  earnest 
work.  There  are  prizes  enough  for  every  successful 
worker,  crowns  enough  for  every  honorable  head  that 
goes  through  the  smoke  of  conflict  to  victory. 

There  is  within  the  young  man  an  upspringing  of 
lofty  sentiment  which  contributes  to  his  elevation,  and 
though  there  are  obstacles  to  be  surmounted  and 
difficulties  to  be  vanquished,  yet  with  truth  for  his. 
watch-word,  and  leaning  on  his  own  noble  purposes 
and  indefatigable  exertions,  he  may  crown  his  brow 
with  imperishable  honors.  He  may  never  wear  the 
warrior's  crimson  wreath,  the  poet's  chaplet  of  bays, 


76  TO    YOUNG    MEN. 

or  the  stateman's  laurels ;  though  no  grand  universal 
truth  may  at  his  bidding  stand  confessed  to  the  world, 
— though  it  may  never  be  his  to  bring  to  a  successful 
issue  a  great  political  revolution  —  to  be  the  founder 
of  a  republic,  whose  name  shall  be  a  "distinguished 
star  in  the  constellation  of  nations," — yea,  more, 
though  his  name  may  never  be  heard  beyond  the 
narrow  limits  of  his  own  neighborhood,  yet  is  his 
mission  none  the  less  a  high  and  holy  one. 

In  the  moral  and  physical  world,  not  only  the  field 
of  battle,  but  also  the  consecrated  cause  of  truth  and 
virtue  calls  for  champions,  and  the  field  for  doing 
good  is  "white  unto  the  harvest;"  and  if  he  enlists  in 
the  ranks,  and  his  spirit  faints  not,  he  may  write  his 
name  among  the  stars  of  heaven.  Beautiful  lives 
have  blossomed  in  the  darkest  places,  as  pure  white 
lilies  full  of  fragrance  on  the  slimy,  stagnant  waters. 
No  possession  is  so  productive  of  real  influence  as  a 
highly  cultivated  intellect.  Wealth,  birth,  and  official 
station  may  and  do  secure  to  their  possessors  an 
external,  superficial  courtesy;  but  they  never  did,  and 
they  never  can,  command  the  reverence  of  the  heart. 
It  is  only  to  the  man  of  large  and  noble  soul,  to  him 
who  blends  a  cultivated  mind  with  an  upright  heart, 
that  men  yield  the  tribute  of  deep  and  genuine  respect. 

But  why  do  so  few  young  men  of  early  promise, 
whose  hopes,  purposes,  and  resolves  were  as  radiant 
as  the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  fail  to  distinguish  them- 
selves ?  The  answer  is  obvious  ;  they  are  not  willing 
to  devote  themselves  to  that  toilsome  culture  which  is 
the  price  of  great  success.  Whatever  aptitude  for 


TO    YOUNG    MEN.  77 

particular  pursuits  nature  may  donate  to  her  favorite 
children,  she  conducts  none  but  the  laborious  and  the 
studious  to  distinction. 

God  puts  the  oak  in  the  forest,  and  the  pine  on  its 
sand  and  rocks,  and  says  to  men,  "There  are  your 
houses  ;  go  hew,  saw,  frame,  build,  make.  God  makes 
the  trees ;  men  must  build  the  house.  God  supplies 
the  timber ;  men  must  construct  the  ship.  God  buries 
iron  in  the  heart  of  the  earth ;  men  must  dig  it,  and 
smelt  it,  and  fashion  it.  What  is  useful  for  the  body, 
and,  still  more,  what  is  useful  for  the  mind,  is  to  be 
had  only  by  exertion  —  exertion  that  will  work  men 
jnore  than  iron  is  wrought  —  that  will  shape  men 
more  than  timber  is  shaped. 

Great  men  have  ever  been  men  of  thought  as  well 
as  men  of  action.  As  the  magnificent  river,  rolling 
in  the  pride  of  its  mighty  waters,  owes  its  greatness 
to  the  hidden  springs  of  the  mountain  nook,  so  does 
the  wide-sweeping  influence  of  distinguished  men 
date  its  origin  from  hours  of  privacy,  resolutely 
employed  in  efforts  after  self-development.  The 
invisible  spring  of  self-culture  is  the  source  of  every 
great  achievement. 

Away,  then,  young  man,  with  all  dreams  of  superi- 
ority, unless  you  are  determined  to  dig  after  knowl- 
edge, as  men  search  for  concealed  gold  !  Remember, 
that  every  man  has  in  himself  the  seminal  principle  ol 
great  excellence,  and  he  may  develop  it  by  cultivation 
if  he  will  TRY.  Perhaps  you  are  what  the  world  calls 
poor.  What  of  that?  Most  of  the  men  whose 
names  are  as  household  words  were  also  the  children 


78  TO    YOUNG    MEN. 

of  poverty.  Captain  Cook,  the  circumnavigator  of 
the  globe,  was  born  in  a  mud  hut,  and  started  in  life 
as  a  cabin  boy.  Lord  Eldon,  who  sat  on  the  wool- 
sack in  the  British  parliament  for  nearly  half  a  century, 
was  the  son  of  a  coal  merchant.  Franklin,  the  phi- 
losopher, diplomatist,  and  statesman,  was  but  a  poor 
printer's  boy,  whose  highest  luxury  at  one  time,  was 
only  a  penny  roll,  eaten  in  the  streets  of  Philadelphia. 
Ferguson,  the  profound  philosopher,  was  son  of  a 
half-starved  weaver.  Johnson,  Goldsmith,  Coleridge, 
and  multitudes  of  others  of  high  distinction,  knew  the 
pressure  of  limited  circumstances,  and  have  demon- 
strated that  poverty  even  is  no  insuperable  obstacle 
to  success. 

Up,  then,  young  man,  and  gird  yourself  for  the 
work  of  self-cultivation !  Set  a  high  price  on  your 
leisure  moments.  They  are  sands  of  precious  gold. 
Properly  expended,  they  will  procure  for  you  a  stock 
of  great  thoughts  —  thoughts  that  will  fill,  stir  and 
invigorate,  and  expand  the  soul.  Seize  also  on  the 
unparalleled  aids  furnished  by  steam  and  type  in  this 
unequaled  age. 

The  great  thoughts  of  great  men  are  now  to  be 
procured  at  prices  almost  nominal.  You  can,  there- 
fore, easily  collect  a  library  of  choice  standard  works. 
But  above  all,  learn  to  reflect  even  more  than  you 
read.  Without  thought,  books  are  the  sepulchre  of 
the  soul, —  they  only  immure  it.  Let  thought  and 
reading  go  hand  in  hand,  and  the  intellect  will  rapidly 
increase  in  strength  and  gifts.  Its  possessor  will  rise 
in  character,  in  power,  and  in  positive  influence.  A 


TO    YOUNG    MEN.  79 

great  deal  of  talent  is  lost  in  the  world  for  the  want 
of  a  little  courage.  Every  day  sends  to  the  grave  a 
number  of  obscure  men,  who  have  only  remained  in 
obscurity  because  their  timidity  has  prevented  them 
from  making  a  first  effort;  and  who,  if  they  could 
have  been  induced  to  begin,  would,  in  all  probability, 
have  gone  great  lengths  in  the  career  of  fame.  The 
fact  is,  that  to  do  anything  in  this  world  worth  doing, 
we  must  not  stand  back,  shivering,  and  thinking  of  the 
cold  and  the  danger,  but  jump  in  and  scramble  through 
as  well  as  we  can.  It  will  not  do  to  be  perpetually 
calculating  tasks,  and  adjusting  nice  chances ;  it  did 
very  well  before  the  flood,  where  a  man  could  consult 
his  friends  upon  an  intended  publication  for  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  years,  and  then  live  to  see  its  success 
afterward ;  but  at  present  a  man  waits  and  doubts, 
and  hesitates,  and  consults  his  brother,  and  his  uncle, 
and  particular  friends,  till,  one  fine  day,  he  finds  that 
he  is  sixty  years  of  age ;  that  he  has  lost  so  much 
time  in  consulting  his  first  cousin  and  particular  friends, 
that  he  has  no  more  time  to  follow  their  advice. 

Man  is  born  to  dominion,  but  he  must  enter  it  by 
conquest,  and  continue  to  do  battle  for  every  inch  of 
ground  added  to  his  sway.  His  first  exertions  are 
put  forth  for  the  acquisition  of  the  control  and  the 
establishment  of  the  authority  of  his  own  will.  With 
his  first  efforts  to  reduce  his  own  physical  powers  to 
subjection,  he  must  simultaneously  begin  to  subject 
his  mental  faculties  to  control.  Through  the  com- 
bined exertion  of  his  mental  and  physical  powers,  he 
labors  to  spread  his  dominion  over  the  widest  possible 
extent  of  the  world  without. 


80  TO    YOUNG    MEN. 

Thus  self-control  and  control  over  outward  circum- 
stances are  alike  the  duty  and  the  birthright  of  man. 
But  self-control  is  the  highest  and  noblest  form  of 
dominion.  "He  that  ruleth  his  own  spirit  is  greater 
than  he  that  taketh  a  city." 

If  you  intend  to  marry,  if  you  think  your  happiness 
will  be  increased  and  your  interests  advanced  by 
matrimony,  be  sure  and  "look  where  you're  going." 
Join  yourself  in  union  with  no  woman  who  is  selfish, 
for  she  will  sacrifice  you ;  with  no  one  who  is  fickle, 
for  she  will  become  estranged;  have  naught  to  do 
with  a  proud  one,  for  she  will  ruin  you.  Leave  a 
coquette  to  the  fools  who  flutter  around  her ;  let  her 
own  fireside  accommodate  a  scold ;  and  flee  from  a 
woman  who  loves  scandal,  as  you  would  flee  from  the 
evil  one.  "Look  where  your  going"  will  sum  it  all  up. 

Gaze  not  on  beauty  too  much,  lest  it  blast  thee ; 
nor  too  long,  lest  it  blind  thee ;  nor  too  near,  lest  it 
burn  thee :  if  thou  like  it,  it  deceives  thee ;  if  thou 
love  it,  it  disturbs  thee  ;  if  thou  lust  after  it,  it  destroys 
.thee ;  if  virtue  accompany  it,  it  is  the  heart's  paradise  ; 
if  vice  associate  it,  it  is  the  soul's  purgatory ;  it  is  the 
wise  man's  bonfire,  and  the  fool's  furnace.  The  God- 
less youth  is  infatuated  by  a  fair  face,  and  is  lured  to 
his  fate  by  a  siren's  smile.  He  takes  no  counsel  of 
the  Lord  and  is  left  to  follow  his  own  shallow  fancies 
or  the  instigations  of  his  passions.  The  time  will 
surely  come  in  his  life  when  he  will  not  so  much  want 
a  pet  as  a  heroine.  In  dark  and  trying  days,  when 
the  waves  of  misfortune  are  breaking  over  him,  and 
one  home  comfort,  and  another,  and  another  is  swept 


TO    YOUNG    MEN.  81 

away,  the  piano  —  the  grand  instrument — gone  to 
the  creditors,  the  family  turned  out  on  the  sidewalk 
by. the  heartless  landlord,  then  what  is  the  wife  good 
for  if  her  lips  that  accompanied  the  piano  in  song, 
cannot  lift  alone  the  notes,  "Jesus,  lover  of  my 
soul?"  The  strongest  arm  in  this  world  is  not  the 
arm  of  a  blacksmith,  nor  the  arm  of  a  giant ;  it  is  the 
arm  of  a  woman,  when  God  has  put  into  it,  through 
faith  and  submission  to  his  will,  his  own  moral  omnip- 
otence. If  there  is  one  beautiful  spot  on  earth,  it  is 
the  home  of  the  young  family  consecrated  by  piety, 
the  abode  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  above  which  the  hover- 
ing angels  touch  their  wings,  forming  a  canopy  of 
protection  and  sanctity. 

There  is  no  moral  object  so  beautiful  as  a  con- 
scientious young  man.  We  watch  him  as  we  do  a 
star  in  the  heavens ;  clouds  may  be  before  him,  but 
we  know  that  his  light  is  behind  them  and  will  beam 
again ;  the  blaze  of  other's  popularity  may  outshine 
him,  but  we  know  that,  though  unseen,  he  illuminates 
his  own  true  sphere.  He  resists  temptation,  not  with- 
out a  struggle,  for  that  is  not  virtue,  but  he  does 
resist  and  conquer;  he  bears  the  sarcasm  of  the 
profligate,  and  it  stings  him,  for  that  is  a  trait  of 
virtue,  but  he  heals  the  wound  with  his  own  pure 
touch.  He  heeds  not  the  watchword  of  fashion  if  it 
leads  to  sin ;  the  Atheist,  who  says  not  only  in  his 
heart,  but  with  his  lips,  "There  is  no  God!"  controls 
him  not;  he  sees  the  hand  of  a  creating  God,  and 
rejoices  in  it.  Woman  is  sheltered  by  fond  arms  and 
loving  counsel ;  old  age  is  protected  by  its  experience, 
6 


82  TO    YOUNG    MEN. 

and  manhood  by  its  strength ;  but  the  young  man 
stands  amid  the  temptations  of  the  world  like  a  self- 
balanced  tower.  Happy  he  who  seeks  and  gains  the 
prop  and  shelter  of  morality.  Onward,  then,  con- 
scientious youth  —  raise  thy  standard  and  nerve  thy- 
self for  goodness.  If  God  has  given  thee  intellect- 
ual power,  awaken  in  that  cause ;  never  let  it  be  said 
of  thee,  he  helped  to  swell  the  tide  of  sin  by  pouring 
his  influence  into  its  channels.  If  thou  art  feeble  in 
mental  strength,  throw  not  that  drop  into  a  polluted 
current.  Awake,  arise,  young  man !  assume  that 
beautiful  garb  of  virtue !  It  is  difficult  to  be  pure 
and  holy.  Put  on  thy  strength,  then.  Let  truth  be 
the  lady  of  thy  love  —  defend  her. 

A  young  man  came  to  an  aged  professor  of  a  dis- 
tinguished continental  university,  with  a  smiling  face, 
and  informed  him  that  the  long  and  fondly  cherished 
desire  of  his  heart  was  at  length  fulfilled — his  parents 
had  given  their  consent  to  his  studying  the  profession 
of  the  law.  For  some  time  he  continued  explaining 
how  he  would  spare  no  labor  or  expense  in  perfecting 
his  education.  When  he  paused,  the  old  man,  who 
had  been  listening  to  him  with  great  patience  and 
kindness,  gently  said,  "Well  land  when  you  have 
finished  your  studies,  what  do  you  mean  to  do  then  ?" 
"Then  I  shall  take  my  degree,"  answered  the  young 
man.  "And  then  ?"  asked  the  venerable  friend.  "And 
then,"  continued  the  youth,  "I  shall  have  a  number  of 
difficult  cases,  and  shall  attract  notice,  and  win  a  great 
reputation."  "And  then?"  repeated  the  holy  man. 
"Why,  then,"  replied  the  youth,  "I  shall  doubtless 


TO    YOUNG    WOMEN.  S3 

be  promoted  to  some  high  office  in  the  State."  "And 
then?"  "And  then,"  pursued  the  young-  lawyer,  "I 
shall  live  in  honor  and  wealth,  and  look  forward  to  a 
happy  old  age."  "And  then  ?"  repeated  the  old  man. 
"And  then,"  said  the  youth,  "and  then  —  and  then  — 
and  then  I  shall  die."  Here  the  venerable  listener 
lifted  up  his  voice,  and  again  asked,  with  solemnity 
and  emphasis,  "And  then  ?"  Whereupon  the  aspiring 
student  made  no  answer,  and  ca^st  down  his  head,  and 
in  silence  and  thoughtfulness  retired.  The  last  "And 
then  ?"  had  pierced  his  heart  like  a  sword,  had  made 
an  impression  which  he  could  not  dislodge. 


WHAT  is  womanhood?  Is  there  any  more  impor- 
tant question  for  young  women  to  consider  than  this  ? 
It  should  be  the  highest  ambition  of  every  young 
woman  to  possess  a  true  womanhood.  Earth  presents 
no  higher  object  of  attainment.  To  be  a  woman,  in 
the  truest  and  highest  sense  of  the  word,  is  to  be  the 
best  thing  beneath  the  skies.  To  be  a  woman  is 
something  more  than  to  live  eighteen  or  twenty 
years ;  something  more  than  to  grow  to  the  physical 
stature  of  women ;  something  more  than  to  wear 
flounces,  exhibit  dry-goods,  sport  jewelry,  catch  the 
gaze  of  lewd-eyed  men ;  something  more  than  to  be 
a  belle,  a  wife,  or  a  mother.  Put  all  these  qualifica- 
tions together  and  they  do  but  little  toward  making 
a  true  woman. 


84  TO    YOUNG    WOMEN. 

Beauty  and  style  are  not  the  surest  passports  to 
womanhood  —  some  of  the  noblest  specimens  of 
womanhood  that  the  world  has  ever  seen,  have  pre- 
sented the  plainest  and  most  unprepossessing-  appear- 
ance. A  woman's  worth  is  to  be  estimated  by  the 
real  goodness  of  her  heart,  the  greatness  of  her  soul, 
and  the  purity  and  sweetness  of  her  character ;  and 
a  woman  with  a  kindly  disposition  and  well-balanced 
temper,  is  both  lovely  and  attractive,  be  her  face  ever 
so  plain,  and  her  figure  ever  so  homely ;  she  makes 
the  best  of  wives  and  the  truest  of  mothers.  She 
has  a  higher  purpose  in  living  than  the  beautiful,  yet 
vain  and  supercilious  woman,  who  has  no  higher  ambi- 
tion than  to  flaunt  her  finery  on  the  street,  or  to 
gratify  her  inordinate  vanity  by  extracting  flattery 
and  praise  from  society,  whose  compliments  are  as 
hollow  as  they  are  insincere. 

Beauty  is  a  dangerous  gift.  It  is  even  so.  Like 
wealth  it  has  ruined  its  thousands.  Thousands  of 
the  most  beautiful  women  are  destitute  of  common 
sense  and  common  humanity.  No  gift  from  heaven 
is  so  general  and  so  widely  abused  by  woman  as  the 
gift  of  beauty.  In  about  nine  cases  in  ten  it  makes  her 
silly,  senseless,  thoughtless,  giddy,  vain,  proud,  frivo- 
lous, selfish,  low  and  mean.  "She  is  beautiful,  and 
she  knows  it,"  is  as  much  as  to  say  she  is  spoiled. 
A  beautiful  girl  is  very  likely  to  believe  she  was  made 
to  be  looked  at;  and  so  she  sets  herself  up  for  a 
show  at  every  window,  in  every  door,  on  every  corner 
of  the  street,  in  every  company  at  which  opportunity 
offers  for  an  exhibition  of  herself.  And  believing 


TO    YOUNG    WOMEN.  85 

and  acting  thus,  she  soon  becomes  good  for  nothing- 
else,  and  when  she  comes  to  be  a  middle-aged 
woman  she  is  that  weakest,  most  sickening  of  all 
human  things — a  faded  beauty. 

These  facts  have  long  since  taught  sensible  men 
to  beware  of  beautiful  women  —  to  sound  them 
carefully  before  they  give  them  their  confidence. 
Beauty  is  shallow  —  only  skin-deep;  fleeting — only 
for  a  few  years'  reign;  dangerous  —  tempting  to 
vanity  and  lightness  of  mind;  deceitful  —  dazzling 
often  to  bewilder;  weak  —  reigning  only  to  ruin; 
gross  —  leading  often  to  sensual  pleasure.  And  yet 
we  say  it  need  not  be  so.  Beauty  is  lovely  and 
ought  to  be  innocently  possessed.  It  has  charms 
which  ought  to  be  used  for  good  purposes.  It  is  a 
delightful  gift,  which  ought  to  be  received  with 
gratitude  and  worn  with  grace  and  meekness.  It 
should  always  minister  to  inward  beauty.  Every 
woman  of  beautiful  form  and  features  should  cultivate 
a  beautiful  mind  and  heart. 

Young  women  ought  to  hold  a  steady  moral  sway 
over  their  male  associates,  so  strong  as  to  prevent 
them  from  becoming  such  lawless  rowdies.  Why  do 
they  not?  Because  they  do  not  possess  sufficient 
force  of  character.  They  have  not  sufficient  resolu- 
tion and  energy  of  purpose.  Their  virtue  is  not 
vigorous.  Their  moral  wills  are  not  resolute. 
Their  influence  is  not  armed  with  executive  power. 
Their  goodness  is  not  felt  as  an  earnest  force  of 
benevolent  purpose.  Their  moral  convictions  are 
not  regarded  as  solemn  resolves  to  be  true  to  God 


86  TO    YOUNG    WOMEN. 

and  duty,  come  what  may.  This  is  the  virtue  of  too 
many  women.  They  would  not  have  a  drunkard  for 
a  husband,  but  they  would  drink  a  glass  of  wine 
with  a  fast  young  man.  They  would  not  use  profane 
language,  but  they  are  not  shocked  by  its  incipient 
language,  and  love  the  society  of  men  whom  they 
know  are  as  profane  as  Lucifer  out  of  their  presence. 
They  would  not  be  dishonest,  but  they  will  use  a 
thousand  deceitful  words  and  ways,  and  countenance 
the  society  of  men  known  as  hawkers,  sharpers  and 
deceivers.  They  would  not  be  irreligious,  but  they 
smile  upon  the  most  irreligious  men,  and  even  show 
that  they  love  to  be  wooed  by  them.  They  would  not 
be  licentious,  but  they  have  no  stunning  rebuke  for 
licentious  men,  and  will  even  admit  them  on  parol 
into  their  society.  This  is  the  virtue  of  too  many 
women  —  a  virtue  scarcely  worthy  the  .name  —  really 
no  virtue  at  all  —  a  milk-and-water  substitute  —  a 
hypocritical,  hollow  pretension  to  virtue  as  unwomanly 
as  it  is  disgraceful.  We  believe  that  a  young  lady, 
by  her  constant,  consistent  Christian  example,  may 
exert  an  untold  power.  You  do  not  know  the  respect 
and  almost  worship  which  young  men,  no  matter  how 
wicked  they  may  be  themselves,  pay  to  a  consistent 
Christian  lady,  be  she  young  or  old.  If  a  young  man 
sees  that  the  religion  which,  in  youth,  he  was  taught 
to  venerate,  is  lightly  thought  of,  and  perhaps  sneered 
at,  by  the  young  ladies  with  whom  he  associates,  we 
can  hardly  expect  him  to  think  that  it  is  the  thing  for 
him. 


TO    YOUNG    WOMEN.  87 

Men  love  to  trust  their  fortunes  in  their  hands.  The 
good  love  to  gather  around  them  for  the  blessing  of 
their  smiles ;  they  strew  their  pathway  with  moral 
light.  They  bless  without  effort;  they  teach  senti- 
ments of  duty  and  honesty  in  every  act  of  their  lives. 

Such  is  the  rectitude  of  character  which  every 
young  woman  should  cultivate.  Nothing  will  more 
surely  secure  confidence  and  esteem.  There  is 
especial  need  of  such  cultivation,  for  young  women 
are  doubted  in  many  respects  more  generally  than 
any  other  class  of  people.  Most  people  seldom  think 
of  believing  many  things  they  hear  from  the  lips  of 
young  women,  so  little  is  genuine  integrity  cultivated 
among  them.  We  are  sorry  to  make  such  a  remark. 
We  wish  truth  did  not  compel  it.  We  would  that 
young  women  would  cultivate  the  strictest  regard  for 
truth  in  all  things  ;  in  small  as  well  as  in  important 
matters.  Exaggeration  or  false  coloring  is  as  much 
a  violation  of  integrity  as  a  direct  falsehood.  Equiv- 
ocation is  often  falsehood.  Deception  in  all  forms  is 
opposed  to  integrity.  Mock  manners,  pretended 
emotions,  affectation,  policy  plans  to  secure  attention 
and  respect  are  all  sheer  falsehoods,  and  in  the  end 
injure  her  who  is  guilty  of  them.  Respect  and  affec- 
tion are  the  outgrowth  of  confidence.  She  who 
secures  the  firmest  confidence  will  secure  the  most 
respect  and  love.  Confidence  can  only  be  secured 
by  integrity.  The  young  woman  with  a  high  sense 
of  duty  will  always  secure  confidence,  and  having 
this,  she  will  secure  respect,  affection,  and  influence. 

You  have  great  influence.    You  cannot  live  without 


88  TO    YOUNG    WOMEN. 

I 

having  some  sort  of  influence,  any  more  then  you  can 
without  breathing.  One  thing  is  just  as  unavoidable 
as  the  other.  Beware,  then,  what  kind  of  influence 
it  is  that  you  are  constantly  exerting.  An  invitation 
to  take  a  glass  of  wine,  or  to  play  a  game  of  cards, 
may  kindle  the  fires  of  intemperance  or  gambling, 
which  will  burn  forever.  A  jest  given  at  the  expense 
of  religion,  a  light,  trifling  manner  in  the  house  of 
God,  or  any  of  the  numerous  ways  in  which  you 
may  show  your  disregard  for  the  souls  of  others,  may 
be  the  means  of  ruining  many  for  time  and  eternity. 
We  want  the  girls  to  rival  the  boys  in  all  that  is 
good,  and  refined,  and  ennobling.  We  want  them 
to  rival  the  boys,  as  they  well  can,  in  learning,  in 
understanding,  in  virtues ;  in  all  noble  qualities  of 
mind  and  heart,  but  not  in  any  of  those  things  that 
have  caused  them  justly  or  unjustly,  to  be  described 
as  savages.  We  want  the  girls  to  be  gentle  —  not 
weak,  but  gentle,  and  kind,  and  affectionate.  We 
want,  to  be  sure,  that  wherever  a  girl  is,  there  should 
be  a  sweet,  subduing  and  harmonizing  influence  of 
purity,  and  truth,  and  love,  pervading  and  hallowing, 
from  centre  to  circumference,  the  entire  circle  in  which 
she  moves.  If  the  boys  are  savages,  we  want  her  to 
be  their  civilizer.  We  want  her  to  tame  them,  to 
subdue  their  ferocity,  to  soften  their  manners,  and  to 
teach  them  all  needful  lessons  of  order,  and  sobriety, 
and  meekness,  and  patience,  and  goodness.  The 
little  world  of  self  is  not  the  limit  that  is  to  confine  all 
her  actions.  Her  love  was  not  destined  to  waste  its 
fires  in  the  narrow  chamber  of  a  single  human  heart; 


TO    YOUNG    WOMEN.  39 

no,  a  broader  sphere  of  action  is  hers  —  a  more 
expansive  benevolence.  The  light  and  heat  of  her 
love  are  to  be  seen  and  felt  far  and  wide.  Who  would 
not  rather  thus  live  a  true  life,  than  sit  shivering-  over 
the  smoldering  embers  of  self-love?  Happy  is  that 
maiden  who  seeks  to  live  this  true  life !  As  time 
passes  on,  her  own  character  will  be  elevated  and 
purified.  Gradually  will  she  return  toward  that  order 
of  her  being,  which  was  lost  in  the  declension  of 
mankind  from  that  original  state  of  excellence  in 
which  they  were  created.  She  will  become,  more 
and  more,  a  true  woman  ;  will  grow  wiser,  and  better, 
and  happier.  Her  path  through  the  world  will  be  as 
a  shining  light,  and  all  who  know  her  will  call  her 
blessed. 

A  right  view  of  life,  then,  which  all  should  take  at 
the  outset,  is  the  one  we  have  presented.  Let  every 
young  lady  seriously  reflect  upon  this  subject.  Let 
her  remember  that  she  is  not  designed  by  her  Creator 
to  live  for  herself  alone,  but  has  a  higher  and  nobler 
destiny  —  that  of  doing  good  to  others  —  of  making 
others  happy.  As  the  quiet  streamlet  which  runs 
along  the  valley  nourishes  a  luxuriant  vegetation, 
causing  flowers  to  bloom  and  birds  to  sing  along  its 
banks,  so  do  a  kind  look  and  happy  countenance 
spread  peace  and  joy  around. 

Kindness  is  the  ornament  of  man — it  is  the  chief 
glory  of  woman  —  it  is,  indeed,  woman's  true  prerog- 
ative—  her  sceptre  and  her  crown.  It  is  the  sword 
with  which  she  conquers,  and  the  charm  with  which 
she  captivates.  Young  lady,  would  you  be  admired 


90  TO    YOUNG    WOMEN. 

and  beloved  ?  would  you  be  an  ornament  to  your  sex, 
and  a  blessing  to  your  race  ?  Cultivate  this  heavenly- 
virtue.  Wealth  may  surround  you  with  its  blandish- 
ments, and  beauty,  learning-,  or  talents,  may  give  you 
admirers,  but  love  and  kindness  alone  can  captivate 
the  heart.  Whether  you  live  in  a  cottage  or  a  palace, 
these  graces  can  surround  you  with  perpetual  sun- 
shine, making  you,  and  all  around  you,  happy. 

Seek  ye,  then,  fair  daughters,  the  possession  of 
that  inward  grace,  whose  essence  shall  permeate  and 
vitalize  the  affections, —  adorn  the  countenance, — 
make  mellifluous  the  voice, — and  impart  a  hallowed 
beauty  even  to  your  motions  !  Not  merely  that  you 
may  be  loved,  would  we  urge  this,  but  that  you  may, 
in  truth,  be  lovely, — that  loveliness  which  fades  not 
with  time,  nor  is  marred  or  aliented  by  disease,  but 
which  neither  chance  nor  change  can  in  any  way 
despoil.  We  urge  you,  gentle  maiden,  to  beware  of 
the  silken  enticements  of  the  stranger,  until  your  love 
is  confirmed  by  protracted  acquaintance.  Shun  the 
idler,  though  his  coffers  overflow  with  pelf.  Avoid 
the  irreverent, — the  scoffer  of  hallowed  things;  and 
him  "who  looks  upon  the  wine  while  it  is  red;" — 
him,  too,  "who  hath  a  high  look  and  a  proud  heart," 
and  who  "privily  slandereth  his  neighbor."  Do  not 
heed  the  specious  prattle  about  "first  love,"  and  so 
place,  irrevocably,  the  seal  upon  your  future  destiny, 
before  you  have  sounded,  in  silence  and  secresy,  the 
deep  fountains  of  your  own  heart.  Wait,  rather, 
until  your  own  character  and  that  of  him  who  would 
woo  you,  is  more  fully  developed.  Surely,  if  this 


DAUGHTER    AND    SISTER.  Qj 

"first  love"  cannot  endure  a  short  probation,  fortified 
by  "the  pleasures  of  hope,"  how  can  it  be  expected 
to  survive  years  of  intimacy,  scenes  of  trial,  distract- 
ing cares,  wasting  sickness,  and  all  the  homely  rou- 
tine of  practical  life.  Yet  it  is  these  that  constitute 
life,  and  the  love  that  cannot  abide  them  is  false  and 
must  die. 


THERE  are  few  things  of  which  men  are  more  proud 
than  of  their  daughters.  The  young  father  follows 
the  sportive  girl  with  his  eye,  as  he  cherishes  an 
emotion  of  complacency,  not  so  tender,  but  quite  as 
active  as  the  mother's.  The  aged  father  leans  on  his 
daughter  as  the  crutch  of  his  declining  years.  An 
old  proverb  says  that  the  son  is  son  till  he  is  married, 
but  the  daughter  is  daughter  forever.  This  is  some- 
thing like  the  truth.  Though  the  daughter  leaves 
the  parental  roof,  she  is  still  followed  by  kindly  re- 
gards. The  gray-haired  father  drops  in  every  day  to> 
greet  the  beloved  face ;  and  when  he  pats  the  cheeks, 
of  the  little  grandchildren,  it  is  chiefly  because  the 
bond  which  unites  him  to  them  passes  through  the 
heart  of  his  darling  Mary;  she  is  his  daughter  still- 
There  are  other  ministries  of  love  more  conspicuous 
than  hers,  but  none  in  which  a  gentler,  lovelier  spirit 
dwells,  and  none  to  which  the  heart's  warm  requitals 
f*x>re  joyfully  respond.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  a 


92  DAUGHTER    AND    SISTER. 

comparative  estimate  of  a  parent's  affection  for  one 
or  another  child.  There  is  little  which  he  needs  to 
covet,  to  whom  the  treasure  of  a  good  child  has  been 
given.  A  good  daughter  is  the  steady  light  of  her 
parent's  house.  His  idea  of  her  is  indissolubly  con- 
nected with  that  of  his  happy  fireside.  She  is  the 
morning  sunlight,  and  his  evening  star.  The  grace, 
and  vivacity,  and  tenderness  of  her  sex,  have  their 
place  in  the  mighty  sway  which  she  holds  over  his 
spirit.  The  lessons  of  recorded  wisdom  which  he 
reads  with  her  eyes  come  to  his  mind  with  a  new 
charm,  as  they  blend  with  the  beloved  melody  of  her 
voice.  He  scarcely  knows  weariness  which  her  song 
does  not  make  him  forget,  or  gloom  which  is  proof 
against  the  brightness  of  her  young  smile.  She  is  the 
pride  and  ornament  of  his  hospitality,  and  the  gentle 
nurse  of  his  sickness,  and  the  constant  agent  in  those 
nameless,  numberless  acts  of  kindness  which  one 
chiefly  cares  to  have  rendered  because  they  are  unpre- 
tending but  all-expressive  proofs  of  love. 

But  now,  turning  to  the  daughters  themselves,  one 
of  their  first  duties  at  home  is  to  make  their  mother 
happy  —  to  shun  all  that  would  pain  or  even  perplex 
her.  "Always  seeking  the  pleasure  of  others,  always 
careless  of  her  own,"  is  one  of  the  finest  encomiums 
•ever  pronounced  upon  a  daugther.  True:  at  that 
period  of  life  when  dreams  are  realities,  and  realities 
seem  dreams,  this  may  be  forgotten.  Mothers  may 
find  only  labor  and  sorrow  where  they  had  a  right 
to  expect  repose ;  but  the  daughter  who  would  make 
her  home  and  her  mother  happy,  should  learn 


DAUGHTER    AND    SISTER.  Q3 

betimes  that,  next  to  duty  to  God  our  Savior,  comes 
duty  to  her  who  is  always  the  first  to  rejoice  in  our 
joy,  and  to  weep  when  we  weep.  Of  all  the  proofs 
of  heartlessness  which  youth  can  give,  the  strongest 
is  indifference  to  a  mother's  happiness  or  sorrow. 

How  large  and  cherished  a  place  does  a  good 
sister's  love  always  hold  in  the  grateful  memory  of 
one  who  has  been  blessed  with  the  benefits  of  this 
relation  as  he  looks  back  to  the  home  of  his  child- 
hood !  How  many  are  there  who,  in  the  changes  of 
maturer  years,  have  found  a  sister's  love,  for  them- 
selves, and  others  dearer  than  themselves,  their  ready 
and  adequate  resource.  With  what  a  sense  of  security 
is  confidence  reposed  in  a  good  sister,  and  with  what 
assurance  that  it  will  be  uprightly  and  considerately 
given,  is  her  counsel  sought !  How  initmate  is  the 
friendship  of  such  sisters,  not  widely  separated  in 
age  from  one  another  !  What  a  reliance  for  warning, 
excitement,  and  sympathy  has  each  secured  in  each ! 
How  many  are.  the  brothers  to  whom,  when  thrown 
into  circumstances  of  temptation,  the  thought  of  a 
sister's  love  has  been  a  constant,  holy  presence, 
rebuking  every  wayward  thought ! 

The  intercourse  of  brothers  and  sisters  forms 
another  important  element  in  the  happy  influences  of 
home.  A  boisterous  or  a  selfish  boy  may  try  to 
domineer  over  the  weaker  or  more  dependent  girl, 
but  generally  the  latter  exerts  a  softening,  sweetening 
charm.  The  brother  animates  and  heartens,  the  sis- 
ter mollifies,  tames,  refines.  The  vine  and  its  sustain- 
ing elm  are  the  emblems  of  such  a  relation  —  and  by 


94  DAUGHTER    AND    SISTER. 

such  agencies  our  "sons  may  become  like  plants 
grown  up  in  their  youth,  and  our  daughters  like 
corner-stones  polished  after  the  similitude  of  a  tem- 
ple." Among  Lord  Byron's  early  miseries,  the  terms 
on  which  he  lived  with  his  mother  helped  to  sour  the 
majestic  moral  ruin  —  he  was  chafed  and  distempered 
thereby.  The  outbreaks  of  her  passion,  and  the 
unbridled  impetuosity  of  his,  made  their  companion- 
ship uncongenial,  and  at  length  drove  them  far  apart. 
But  Byron  found  a  compensating  power  in  the  friend- 
ship of  his  sister,  and  to  her  he  often  turned  amid 
his  wanderings,  or  his  misantrophy  and  guilt,  as  an 
exile  turns  to  his  home.  "A  world  to  roam  in  and  a 
home  with  thee,"  were  words  which  embodied  the 
feelings  of  his  void  and  aching  heart,  when  all  else 
that  is  lovely  appeared  to  have  faded  away.  He  had 
plunged  into  the  pleasures  of  sin  till  he  was  sated, 
wretched,  and  self-consumed  —  the  very  Sardanapalus 
of  vice.  But  "his  sister,  his  sweet  sister,"  still  shone 
like  the  morning  star  of  memory  upon  his  dark  soul. 
Sisters  scarcely  know  the  influence  they  have  over 
their  brothers.  A  young  man  testifies  that  the  great- 
est proof  of  the  truth  of  the  Christian  religion  was 
his  sister's  life.  Often  the  simple  request  of  a  lady 
will  keep  a  young  man  from  doing  wrong.  We  have 
known  this  to  be  the  case  very  frequently;  and 
young  men  have  been  kept  from  breaking  the  Sab- 
bath, from  drinking,  from  chewing,  just  because  a 
lady  whom  they  respected,  and  for  whom  they  had 
an  affection,  requested  it.  A  tract  given,  an  invitation 
to  go  to  church,  a  request  that  your  friend  would 


DAUGHTER    AND    SISTER.  Q5 

read  the  Bible  daily,  will  often  be  regarded,  when  a 
more  powerful  appeal  from  other  sources  would  fall 
unheeded  upon  the  heart.  Many  of  the  gentlemen 
whom  you  meet  in  society  are  away  from  the  influence 
of  parents  and  sisters,  and  they  will  respond  to  any 
interest  taken  in  their  welfare.  We  all  speak  of  a 
young  man's  danger  from  evil  associates,  and  the 
very  bad  influence  which  his  dissipated  gentlemen 
associates  have  upon  him.  We  believe  it  is  all  true 
that  a  gentleman's  character  is  formed  to  a  greater 
extent  by  the  ladies  that  he  associates  with  before  he 
becomes  a  complete  man  of  the  world.  We  think, 
in  other  words,  that  a  young  man  is  pretty  much 
what  his  sisters  and  young  lady  friends  choose  to 
make  him.  We  knew  a  family  where  the  sisters 
encouraged  their  young  brothers  to  smoke,  thinking 
it  was  manly,  and  to  mingle  with  gay,  dissipated  fel- 
lows because  they  thought  it  "smart;"  and  they  did 
mingle  with  them,  body  and  soul,  and  abused  the 
same  sisters  shamefully.  The  influence  began  further 
back  than  with  their  gentleman  companions.  It 
began  with  their  sisters,  and  was  carried  on  through 
the  forming  years  of  their  character.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  sisters  are  watchful  and  affectionate  they  may 
in  various  ways  —  by  entering  into  any  little  plan  with 
interest,  by  introducing  their  younger  brothers  into 
good  ladies'  society  —  lead  them  along  till  their  char- 
acter is  formed,  and  then  a  high  respect  for  ladies, 
and  a  manly  self-respect,  will  keep  them  from  ming- 
ling in  low  society. 


ASSOCIATES. 


Thou  art  noble ;  yet,  I  see, 
Thy  honorable  Metal  may  be  wrought 
From  that  it  is  disposed.     Therefore  'tis  meet 
That  noble  Minds  keep  ever  with  their  Likes : 
For  who  so  firm,,  that  cannot  be  seduced  ? 

— SHAKSPEARE. 

AN  author  is  known  by  his  writing's,  a  mother  by 
her  daughter,  a  fool  by  his  words,  and  all  men  by 
their  companions. 

Intercourse  with  persons  of  decided  virtue  and 
excellence  is  of  great  -importance  in  the  formation 
of  a  good  character.  The  force  of  example  is 
powerful ;  we  are  creatures  of  imitation,  and,  by  a 
necessary  influence,  our  tempers  and  habits  are 
formed  on  the  model  of  those  with  whom  we 
familiarly  associate.  Better  be  alone  than  in  bad 
company.  Evil  communications  corrupt  good  man- 
ners. Ill  qualities  are  catching  as  well  as  diseases ; 
and  the  mind  is  at  least  as  much,  if  not  a  great  deal 
more,  liable  to  infection,  than  the  body.  Go  with 
mean  people,  and  you  think  life  is  mean. 

The  human  race  requires  to  be  educated,  and  it  is 
doubtless  true  that  the  greater  part  of  that  education 
is  obtained  through  example  rather  than  precept. 
This  is  especially  true  respecting  character  and  habits. 
How  natural  is  it  for  a  child  to  look  up  to  those 
around  him  for  an  example  of  imitation,  and  how 
readily  does  he  copy  all  that  he  sees  done,  good  or 
bad.  The  importance  of  a  good  example  on  which 


ASSOCIATES.  97 

the  young  may  exercise  this  powerful  and  active 
element  of  their  nature,  is  a  matter  of  the  utmost 
moment.  To  the  phrenologist  every  faculty  assumes 
an  importance  almost  infinite,  and  perhaps  none  more 
so  than  that  of  imitation.  It  is  a  trite,  but  true 
maxim,  that  "a  man  is  known  by  the  company  he 
keeps."  He  naturally  assimilates,  by  the  force  of 
imitation,  to  the  habits  and  manners  of  those  by 
whom  he  is  surrounded.  We  know  persons,  who 
walk  much  with  the  lame,  who  have  learned  to  walk 
with  a  hitch  or  limp  like  their  lame  friends.  Vice 
stalks  in  the  streets  unabashed,  and  children  copy 
it.  Witness  the  urchin  seven  years  old  trying  to 
ape  his  seniors  in  folly,  by  smoking  the  cigar- 
stumps  which  they  have  cast  aside.  In  time,  when 
his  funds  improve,  he  will  wield  the  long  nine,  and 
be  a  full-fledged  '^loafer."  This  faculty  is  usually 
more  active  in  the  young  than  in  adult  life,  and 
serves  to  lead  them  to  imitate  that  which  their  seniors 
do,  before  their  reasoning  powers  are  sufficiently  devel- 
oped and  instructed  to  enable  them  to  reason  out  a 
proper  course  of  action.  Thus  by  copying  others, 
they  do  that  which  is  appropriate,  right  or  wrong, 
without  knowing  why,  or  the  principles  and  conse- 
quences involved  in  their  actions. 

The  awfully  sad  consequences  of  evil  associations 
is  exhibited  in  the  history  of  almost  all  criminals. 
The  case  of  a  man  named  Brown,  recently  executed 
in  Toronto,  Canada,  is  an  example.  He  was  born  in 
Cambridgeshire,  England,  of  parents  who  were  mem- 
bers of  the  Church  of  England ;  and  in  a  sketch  of 
7 


98  ASSOCIATES. 

his  life,  written  at  his  dictation,  he  attributes  his  down* 
fall  to  early  disobedience  and  to  bad  companions, 
which  led  to  dissipation  and  finally  plunged  him  into 
associations  with  the  most  dissolute  and  lawless  char- 
acters. They  led  him  on  in  transgression  and  sin, 
which  ended  in  his  being  brought  to  the  scaffold. 
On  the  gallows  he  made  the  following  speech :  "  This 
is  a  solemn  day  for  rne,  boys!  I  hope  this  will  be  a 
warning  to  you  against  bad  company — I  hope  it  will 
be  a  lesson  to  all  young  people,  and  old  as  well  as 
young,  rich  and  poor.  It  was  that  that  brought  me 
here  to-day  to  my  last  end,  though  I  am  innocent  of 
the  murder  I  am  about  to  suffer  for.  Before  my  God 
I  am  innocent  of  the  murder !  I  never  committed  this 
or  any  other  murder.  I  know  nothing  of  it.  I  am 
going  to  meet  my  Maker  in  a  few  minutes.  May  the 
Lord  have  mercy  on  my  soul !  Amen,  amen."  What 
a  terrible  warning  his  melancholy  example  affords  to 
young  men  never  to  deviate  from  the  straight  line  of 
duty.  Live  with  the  culpable  and  you  will  be-  very 
likely  to  die  with  the  criminal.  Bad  company  is  like 
a  nail  driven  into  a  post,  which  after  the  first  or  sec- 
ond blow,  may  be  drawn  out  with  little  difficulty ;  but 
being  once  driven  in  up  to  the  head,  the  pinchers 
cannot  take  hold  to  draw  it  out,  which  can  only  be 
done  by  the  destruction  of  the  wood.  You  may  be  ever 
so  pure,  you  cannot  associate  with  bad  companions 
without  falling  into  bad  odor.  Evil  company  is  like 
tobacco  smoke  —  you  cannot  be  long  in  its  presence 
without  carrying  away  taint  of  it.  "Let  no  man 
deceive  himself,"  says  Petrarch,  "by  thinking  that  the 


ASSOCIATES.  99 

contagions  of  the  soul  are  less  than  those  of  the  body. 
They  are  yet  greater ;  they  sink  deeper,  and  come  on 
more  unsuspectedly."  From  impure  air,  we  take  dis- 
eases ;  from  bad  company,  vice  and  imperfection. 
Avoid,  as  much  as  you  can,  the  company  of  all 
vicious  persons  whatever ;  for  no  vice  is  alone,  and  alf 
are  infectious. 

Men  carry  unconscious  signs  of  their  life  about 
them,  those  that  come  from  the  forge  and  those  from 
the  lime  and  mortar,  and  those  from  dusty  travel  bear 
signs  of  being  workmen  and  of  their  work.  One 
needs  not  ask  a  merry  face  or  a  sad  one  whether  it 
hath  come  from  joy  or  from  grief.  Tears  and  laugh- 
ter tell  their  own  story.  Should  one  come  home  with 
fruit,  we  say — "You  have  come  from  the  orchard." 
If  with  hands  full  of  wild  flowers,  "You  have  come 
from  the  field."  If  one's  garments  smell  of  mingled 
odors,  we  say,  "You  have  walked  in  a  garden."  So 
with  associations  —  those  that  walk  with  the  just,  the 
upright,  have  the  sweetest  incense  that  has  ever 
anointed  man.  Let  no  man  deceive  himself. 

Do  you  love  the  society  of  the  vulgar  ?  Then  you 
are  already  debased  in  your  sentiments.  Do  you 
seek  to  be  with  the  profane  ?  In  your  heart  you  are 
like  them.  Are  jesters  and  buffoons  your  choice 
friends  ?  He  who  loves  to  laugh  at  folly  is  himself  a 
fool.  Do  you  love  and  seek  the  society  of  the  wise 
and  good  ?  Is  this  your  habit  ?  Had  you  rather  take 
the  lowest  seat  among  these  than  the  highest  seat 
among  others  ?  Then  you  have  already  learned  to 
be  good.  You  may  not  make  very  much  progress, 


•100  ASSOCIATES. 

but  even  a  good  beginning  is  not  to  be  despised. 
Hold  on  your  way,  and  seek  to  be  the  companion  of 
those  that  fear  God.  So  you  shall  be  wise  for  your- 
self, and  wise  for  eternity. 

No  man  of  position  can  allow  himself  to  associate, 
without  prejudice,  with  the  profane,  the  Sabbath- 
breakers,  the  drunken  and  the  licentious,  for  he 
lowers  himself,  without  elevating  them.  The  sweep 
is  not  made  the  less  black  by  rubbing  against  the 
well-dressed  and  the  clean,  while  they  are  inevitably 
defiled.  Nothing  elevates  us  so  much  as  the  pres- 
ence of  a. spirit  similar,  yet  superior,  to  our  own. 
What  is  companionship,  where  nothing  that  improves 
the  intellect  is  communicated,  and  where  the  larger 
heart  contracts  itself  to  the  model  and  dimension  of 
the  smaller? 

Washington  was  wont  to  say,  "Be  courteous  to 
all,  but  intimate  with  few,  and  let  those  few  be  well 
tried  before  you  give  them  your  confidence."  It 
should  be  the  aim  of  young  men  to  go  into  good 
society.  We  do  not  mean  the  rich,  the  proud  and 
fashionable,  but  the  society  of  the  wise,  the  intelligent 
and  good.  Where  you  find  men  that  know  more 
than  you  do,  and  from  whose  conversation  one  can 
gain  information,  it  is  always  safe  to  be  found.  It 
has  broken  down  many  a  man  by  associating  with 
the  low  and  vulgar,  where  the  ribald  song  and  the 
indecent  story  were  introduced  to  excite  laughter. 
If  you  wish  to  be  respected  —  if  you  desire  happiness 
and  not  misery,  we  advise  you  to  associate  with  the 
intelligent  and  good.  Strive  for  mental  excellence 


ASSOCIATES. 


and  strict  integrity,  and  you  never  will  be  found  in 
the  sinks  of  pollution,  and  on  the  benches  of  retailers 
and  gamblers.  Once  habituate  yourself  to  a  virtuous 
course  —  once  secure  a  love  of  good  society,  and  no 
punishment  would  be  greater  than  by  accident  to  be 
obliged  for  half  a  day  to  associate  with  the  low  and 
vulgar.  Try  to  frequent  the  company  of  your  bet- 
ters. In  book  and  life  it  is  the  most  wholesome 
society  ;  learn  to  admire  rightly  ;  that  is  the  great 
pleasure  of  life.  Note  what  the  great  men  admire  — 
they  admire  great  things  ;  narrow  spirits  admire 
basely  and  worship  meanly.  Some  persons  choose 
their  associates  as  they  do  other  useful  animals,  pre- 
ferring those  from  whom  they  expect  the  most  ser- 
vice. Procure  no  friends  in  haste,  nor,  if  once  secured, 
in  haste  abandon  them.  Be  slow  in  choosing  an 
associate  and  slower  to  change  him  ;  slight  no  man 
for  poverty,  nor  esteem  any  one  for  his  wealth. 
Good  friends  should  not  be  easily  forgotten,  nor 
used  as  suits  of  apparel,  which,  when  we  have  worn 
them  threadbare,  we  cast  off  and  call  for  new.  When 
once  you  profess  yourself  a  friend,  endeavor  to  be 
always  such.  He  can  never  have  any  true  friends, 
that  will  be  often  changing  them.  Whoever  moves 
you  to  part  with  a  true  and  tried  friend,  has  certainly 
a  design  to  make  way  for  a  treacherous  enemy.  To 
part  with  a  tried  friend  without  very  great  provocation, 
is  unreasonable  levity.  Nothing  but  plain  malevo- 
lence can  justify  disunion.  The  loss  of  a  friend  is 
like  that  of  a  limb  ;  time  may  heal  the  anguish  of  the 
wound,  but  the  loss  cannot  be  repaired. 


102  ASSOCIATES. 

When  you  have  once  found  your  proper  associate, 
then  stick  to  him  —  make  him  your  friend  —  a  close 
friend ;  do  all  you  can  to  improve  him  and  learn  all  you 
can  of  him ;  let  his  good  qualities  become  yours ; 
one  is  not  bound  to  bear  a  part  in  the  follies  of  a 
friend,  but  rather  to  dissuade  him  from  them ;  even 
though  he  cannot  consent  to  tell  him  plainly,  as 
Phocion  did  Antipater,  who  said  to  him,  "I  cannot 
be  both  your  friend  and  flatterer."  It  is  a  good  rule 
always  to  back  your  friends  and  face  your  enemies. 
Whoever  would  reclaim  his  friend,  and  bring  him  to 
a  true  and  perfect  understanding  of  himself,  may 
privately  admonish,  but  never  publicly  reprehend 
him.  An  open  admonition  is  an  open  disgrace. 

Have  the  courage  to  cut  the  most  agreeable 
acquaintance  you  have,  when  you  are  convinced  he 
lacks  principle ;  a  friend  should  bear  with  a  friend's 
infirmities,  but  not  with  his  vices.  He  that  does  a 
base  thing  in  zeal  for  his  friend,  burns  the  golden 
thread  that  ties  their  hearts  together. 

If  you  have  once  chosen  the  proper  person  as  an 
associate  and  a  friend,  then  you  have  a  friend  for  life- 
time, and  you  will  always  cherish  and  honor  him ; 
but  the  neglected  child,  the  reckless  youth,  the 
wrecked  and  wretched  man  will  haunt  you  with 
memories  of  melancholy,  with  grief  and  despair. 
How  we  will  curse  those  associates  that  dragged  us 
down  to  ruin  and  destruction,  and  how  love  to  repeat 
the  names  of  old  friends. 

"Old  friends!"  What  a  multitude  of  deep  and 
varied  emotions  are  called  forth  from  the  soul  by  the 


INFLUENCE.  103 

utterance  of  these  two  words.  What  thronging 
memories  of  other  days  crowd  the  brain  when  they 
are  spoken.  Ah,  there  is  a  magic  in  the  sound 
and  the  spell  which  it  creates  is  both  sad  and  pleasing. 
As  we  sit  by  our  fireside,  while  the  winds  are  making 
wild  melody  without  the  walls  of  our  cottage,  and 
review  the  scenes  of  by-gone  years  which  flit  before 
us  in  swift  succession,  dim  and  shadowy  as  the  recollec- 
tions of  a  dream  —  how  those  "old  familiar  faces" 
will  rise  up  and  haunt  our  vision  with  their  well 
remembered  features.  But  ah,  where  are  they? 
those  friends  of  our  youth  —  those  kindred  spirits  who 
shared  our  joy  and  sorrows  when  first  we  started  in 
the  pilgrimage  of  life.  Companions  of  our  early 
days,  they  are  endeared  to  us  by  many  a  tie,  and  we 
now  look  back  through  the  vista  of  years  upon  the 
hours  of  our  communion,  as  upon  green  oases  in  a 
sandy  waste.  Years  have  passed  over  us  with  their 
buds  and  flowers,  their  fruits  and  snows ;  and  where 
now  are  those  "old  familiar  faces?"  They  are 
scattered,  and  over  many  of  their  last  narrow  homes 
the  thistle  waves  its  lonely  head;  "after  life's  fitful 
fever  they  sleep  well."  Some  are  buffeting  the  billows 
of  time's  stormy  sea  in  distant  lands  ;  though  they  are 
absent  our  thoughts  are  often  with  them.  , 


AWAY  up  among  the  Alleghanies  there  is  a  spring 
so  small  that  a  single  ox  on  a  summer's  day  could 


104  INFLUENCE. 

drain  it  dry.  It  steals  its  unobtrusive  way  among-  the 
hills,  till  it  spreads  out  into  the  beautiful  Ohio. 
Thence  it  stretches  away  a  thousand  miles,  leaving 
on  its  banks  more  than  a  hundred  villages  and  cities 
and  many  a  cultivated  farm ;  then  joining  the  Missis- 
sippi, it  stretches  away  some  twelve  hundred  miles 
more,  till  it  falls  into  the  emblem  of  eternity.  It  is 
one  of  the  greatest  tributaries  to  the  ocean,  which 
obedient  only  to  God,  shall  roar  till  the  angel  with  one 
foot  on  the  sea  and  the  other  on  the  land,  shall  aver 
that  time  shall  be  no  longer.  So  with  moral  influence. 
It  is  a  rill  —  a  rivulet — an  ocean,  and  as  boundless 
and  fathomless  as  eternity. 

"The  stone,  flung  from  my  careless  hand  into  the 
lake,  splashed  down  into  the  depths  of  the  flowing 
water,  and  that  was  all.  No,  it  was  not  all.  Look  at 
those  concentric  rings,  rolling  their  tiny  ripples  among 
the  sedgy  reeds,  dippling  the  overhanging  boughs  of 
yonder  willow,  and  producing  an  influence,  slight  but 
conscious,  to  the  very  shores  of  the  lake  itself.  That 
stray  word,  that  word  of  pride  or  scorn,  flung  from 
my  lips  in  casual  company,  produces  a  momentary 
depression,  and  that  is  all.  No,  it  is  not  all.  It 
deepened  that  man's  disgust  at  godliness,  and  it  sharp- 
ened the  edge  of  that  man's  sarcasm,  and  it  shamed 
that  half-converted  one  out  of  his  penitent  misgivings, 
and  it  produced  an  influence,  slight,  but  eternal,  on 
the  destiny  of  a  human  life.  Oh,  it  is  a  terrible  power 
that  I  have  —  this  power  of  influence  —  and  it  clings 
to  me.  I  cannot  shake  it  off.  It  is  born  with  me ;  it 
has  grown  with  my  growth,  and  is  strengthened  with 


HABIT.  105 

my  strength.  It  speaks,  it  walks,  it  moves ;  it  is 
powerful  in  every  look  of  my  eye,  in  every  word  of 
my  lips,  in  every  act  of  my  life.  I  cannot  live  to 
myself.  I  must  either  be  a  light  to  illumine,  or  a 
tempest  to  destroy.  I  must  either  be  an  Abel,  who, 
by  his  immortal  righteousness,  being  dead  yet  speak- 
eth,  or  an  Achan,  the  sad  continuance  of  whose  other- 
wise forgotten  name  is  the  proof  that  man  perishes 
not  alone  in  his  iniquity.  Dear  reader,  this  necessary 
element  of  power  belongs  to  you.  The  sphere  may 
be  contracted,  thine  influence  may  be  small,  but  a 
sphere  and  influence  you  surely  have." 

Every  human  being  is  a  centre  of  influence  for  good 
or  for  ill.  No  man  can  live  unto  himself.  The 
meshes  of  a  net  are  not  more  surely  knit  together 
than  man  to  man.  We  may  forget  this  secret,  silent 
influence.  But  we  are  exerting  it  by  our  deeds,  we 
are  exerting  it  by  our  words,- we  are  exerting  it  by 
our  very  thoughts  —  and  he  is  wise  with  a  wisdom 
more  than  that  of  earth  who  seeks  to  put  forth  the 
highest  power  for  good,  be  his  home  a  hut  or  a  hall, 
a  cabin  or  a  palace. 


HABIT  in  a  child  is  at  first  like  a  spider's  web ;  if 
neglected  it  becomes  a  thread  of  twine ;  next,  a  cord 
of  rope;  finally,  a  cable  —  then  who  can  break  it? 
There  are  habits  contracted  by  bad  example,  or  bad 


106  HABIT. 

management,  before  we  have  judgment  to  discern 
their  approaches,  or  because  the  eye  of  reason  is  laid 
asleep,  or  has  not  compass  of  view  sufficient  to  look 
around  on  every  quarter.  • 

Oh,  the  tyranny,  the  despotism  of  a  bad  habit ! 
Coleridge,  one  of  the  subtlest  intellects  and  finest 
poets  of  his  time,  battled  for  twenty  years  before  he 
could  emancipate  himself  from  his  tyrant,  opium. 
He  went  into  voluntary  imprisonment.  He  hired  a 
man  to  watch  him  day  and  night,  and  keep  him  by 
force  from  tasting  the  pernicious  drug.  He  formed 
resolution  after  resolution.  Yet,  during  all  the  best 
years  of  his  life;  he  wasted  his  substance  and  his 
health,  neglected  his  family  and  lived  degraded  and 
accursed  because  he  had  not  resolution  to  abstain. 
He  would  lay  plans  to  cheat  the  very  man  whom  he 
paid  to  keep  the  drug  from  him,  and  bribe  the  jailer 
to  whom  he  had  voluntarily  surrendered  himself. 

Terrible,  terrible  is  the  despotism  of  a  bad  habit 
The  case  of  Coleridge  is  an  extreme  one,  of  course 
But  there  are  many,  whose  eyes  these  lines  will  meet, 
who  are  as  truly  the  slaves  of  a  perverted  appetite  as 
he.     Their  despot  may  be  opium,  tobacco,  drink,  of 
worse  ;  but  they  are  so  completely  under  the  dominion 
of  their  master,  that  nothing  short  of  a  moral  war  of 
independence, which  should  task  all  their  own  strength, 
and  all  they  could  borrow  from  others,  would  suffice 
to  deliver  them. 

John  B.  Gough  uses  the  following  as  a  powerful 
illustration :  I  remember  once  riding  from  Buffalo  to 
Niagara  Falls.  I  said  to  a  gentleman,  "What  river 
is  that,  sir  ?" 


HABIT.  1Q7 

"That,"  he  said,  "is  Niagara  river." 

"Well,  it  is  a  beautiful  stream,"  said  I;  "bright 
and  fair  and  glassy.  How  far  off  are  the  rapids  ?" 

"Only  a  mile  or  two,"  was  the  reply. 

"Is  it  possible  that  only  a  mile  from  us  we  shall 
find  the  water  in  the  turbulence  which  it  must  show 
near  to  the  falls  ?" 

"You  will  find  it  so,  sir."  And  so  I  found  it;  and 
the  first  sight  of  Niagara  I  shall  never  forget.  Now, 
launch  your  bark  on  that  Niagara  river ;  it  is  bright, 
smooth,  beautiful  and  glassy.  There  is  a  ripple  at 
the  bow ;  the  silver  wave  you  leave  behind  adds  to 
the  enjoyment.  Down  the  stream  you  glide,  oars, 
sails  and  helm  in  proper  trim,  and  you  set  out  on  your 
pleasure  excursion.  Suddenly  some  one  cries  out 
from  the  bank,  "Young  men,  ahoy!" 

"What  is  it?" 

"The  rapids  are  below  you!" 

"  Ha !  ha !  -we  have  heard  of  the  rapids,  but  we  are 
not  such  fools  as  to  get  there.  If  we  go  too  fast,  then 
we  shall  up  with  the  helm,  and  steer  to  the  shore ;  we 
will  set  the  mast  in  the  socket,  hoist  the  sail,  and  speed 
to  the  land.  Then  on,  boys;  don't  be  alarmed- 
there  is  no  danger." 

"Young  men,  ahoy  there!" 

"What  is  it?" 

'The  rapids  are  below  you!" 

"  Ha !  ha !  we  will  laugh  and  quaff,  all  things  de- 
light us.  What  care  we  for  the  future !  No  man 
ever  saw  it.  Sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof. 
We  will  enjoy  life  while  we  may ;  will  catch  pleasure 


108  HABIT. 

as  it  flies.  This  is  enjoyment;  time  enough  to  steer 
out  of  danger  when  we  are  sailing  swiftly  with  the 
current." 

"  Young  men,  ahoy  !" 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Beware  !     Beware  !     The  rapids  are  below  you  !" 

Now  you  see  the  water  foaming  all  around.  See 
how  fast  you  pass  that  point !  Up  with  the  helm ! 
Now  turn  !  Pull  hard  !  quick  !  quick  !  quick  !  pull  for 
your  lives !  pull  till  the  blood  starts  from  the  nostrils, 
and  the  veins  stand  like  whip-cords  upon  the  brow ! 
Set  the  mast  in  the  socket!  hoist  the  sail!  —  ah!  ah! 
it  is  too  late  !  Shrieking,  cursing,  howling,  blasphem- 
ing, over  they  go. 

Thousands  go  over  the  rapids  every  year,  through 
the  power  of  habit,  crying  all  the  while,  "When 
I  find  out  that  it  is  injuring  me  I  will  give  it  up !" 

Few  people  form  habits  of  wrong-doing  delib- 
erately or  willfully ;  they  glide  into  them  by  degrees 
and  almost  unconsciously,  and  before  they  are  aware 
of  danger,  the  habits  are  confirmed  and  require  reso- 
lute and  persistent  effort  to  effect  a  change.  "Resist 
beginning,"  was  the  maxim  of  the  ancients,  and 
should  be  preserved  as  a  landmark  in  our  day.  Those 
who  are  prodigal  or  passionate,  or  indolent,  or  vision- 
ary, soon  make  shipwreck  of  themselves,  and  drift 
about  the  sea  of  life,  the  prey  of  every  wind  and 
•current,  vainly  shrieking  for  help,  till  at  last  they 
drift  away  into  darkness  and  death. 

Take  care  that  you  are  not  drifting.  See  that  you 
have  fast  hold  of  the  helm.  The  breakers  of  life 


HABIT.  109 

forever  roar  under  the  lee,  and  adverse  gales  contin- 
ually blow  on  the  shore.  Are  you  watching  how  she 
heads?  Do  you  keep  a  firm  grip  of  the  wheel?  If 
you  give  way  but  for  one  moment  you  may  drift 
hopelessly  into  the  boiling  vortex.  Young  men,  take 
care !  It  rests  with  yourselves  alone  under  God, 
whether  you  reach  port  triumphantly  or  drift  to  ruin. 

Be  not  slow  in  the  breaking  of  a  sinful  custom ;  a 
quick,  courageous  resolution  is  better  than  a  gradual 
deliberation  ;  in  such  a  combat,  he  is  the  bravest  sol- 
dier who  lays  about  him  without  fear  or  wit.  Wit 
pleads,  fear  disheartens  ;  he  that  would  kill  hydra,  had 
better  strike  off  one  neck  than  five  heads  ;  fell  the 
tree,  and  the  branches  are  soon  cut  off. 

Whatever  be  the  cause,  says  Lord  Kames,  it  is  an 
established  fact,  that  we  are  much  influenced  by  cus- 
tom ;  it  hath  an  effect  upon  our  pleasures,  upon  our 
actions,  and  even  upon  our  thoughts  and  sentiments. 
Habit  makes  no  figure  during  the  vivacity  of  youth ; 
in  middle  age  it  gains  ground ;  and  in  old  age,  governs 
without  control.  In  that  period  of  life,  generally 
speaking,  we  eat  at  a  certain  hour,  take  exercise  at  a 
certain  hour,  go  to  rest  at  a  certain  hour,  all  by  the 
direction  of  habit ;  nay,  a  particular  seat,  table,  bed, 
comes  to  be  essential ;  and  a  habit  in  any  of  these 
cannot  be  contradicted  without  uneasiness. 

Man,  it  has  been  said,  is  a  bundle  of  habits ;  and 
habit  is  second  nature.  Metastasio  entertained  so 
strong  an  opinion  as  to  the  power  of  repetition  in  act 
and  thought,  that  he  said,  "All  is  habit  in  mankind, 
even  virtue  itself." 


-HO  HABIT. 

Evil  habits  must  be  conquered,  or  they  will  conquer 
us  and  destroy  our  peace  and  happiness. 

Vicious  habits  are  so  great  a  stain  upon  human 
nature,  said  Cicero,  and  so  odious  in  themselves, 
that  every  person  actuated  by  right  reason  would 
avoid  them,  though  he  was  sure  they  would  always 
be  concealed  both  from  God  and  man,  and  had  no 
future  punishment  entailed  upon  them. 

Vicious  habits,  when  opposed,  offer  the  most  vigor- 
ous resistance  on  the  first  attack.  At  each  successive 
•encounter  this  resistance  grows  fainter  and  fainter, 
until  finally  it  ceases  altogether  and  the  victory  is 
achieved. 

Habit  is  man's  best  friend  or  worst  enemy ;  it  can 
•exalt  him  to  the  highest  pinnacle  of  virtue,  honor 
and  happiness,  or  sink  him  to  the  lowest  depths  of 
vice,  shame  and  misery. 

We  may  form  habits  of  honesty,  or  knavery ; 
truth,  or  falsehood ;  of  industry,  or  idleness ;  fru- 
gality, or  extravagance  ;  of  patience,  or  impatience ; 
self-denial,  or  self-indulgence ;  of  kindness,  cruelty, 
politeness,  rudeness,  prudence,  perseverance,  circum- 
spection. In  short,  there  is  not  a  virtue,  nor  a  vice, 
not  an  act  of  body,  nor  of  mind,  to  which  we  may 
not  be  chained  down  by  this  despotic  power. 

It  is  a  great  point  for  young  men  to  begin  well ; 
for  it  is  in  the  beginning  of  life  that  that  system  of 
conduct  is  adopted  which  soon  assumes  the  force  of 
habit.  Begin  well,  and  the  habit  of  doing  well  will 
become  quite  as  easy  as  the  habit  of  doing  badly. 
Pitch  upon  that  course  of  life  which  is  the  most 


COMPANY. 


excellent,  and  habit  will  render  it  the  most  delightful. 
Well  begun  is  half  ended,  says  the  proverb  ;  and  a 
good  beginning  is  half  the  battle.  Many  promising 
young  men  have  irretrievably  injured  themselves  by 
a  first  false  step  at  the  commencement  of  life  ;  while 
others,  of  much  less  promising  talents,  have  succeed- 
ed simply  by  beginning  well,  and  going  onward. 
The  good  practical  beginning  is,  to  a  certain  extent, 
a  pledge,  a  promise,  and  an  assurance,  of  the  ultimate 
prosperous  issue.  There  is  many  a  poor  creature, 
now  crawling  through  life,  miserable  himself  and  the 
cause  of  sorrow  to  others,  who  might  have  lifted  up 
his  head  and  prospered,  if,  instead  of  merely  satisfy- 
ing himself  with  resolutions  of  well-doing,  he  had 
actually  gone  to  work  and  made  a  good  practical 
beginning. 


Congeni.il  passions  souls  together  bind, 
And  every  calling  mingles  with  its  kind  ; 
Soldier  unites  with  soldier,  swain  with  swain, 
The  mariner  with  him  that  roves  the  main. 

•F.  LEWIS. 

THAT  we  may  be  known  by  the  company  we  fre- 
quent, has  become  proverbial.  For,  when  unre- 
strained, we  are  prone  to  choose  and  associate  with 
those  whose  manners  and  dispositions  are  agreeable 
and  congenial  to  ours.  Hence,  when  we  find  persons 
trequenting  any  companv  whatsoever,  we  are  disposed 


COMPANY. 


to  believe  that  such  company  is  congenial  with  their 
feelings,  not  only  in  regard  to  their  intellectual  capa- 
cities and  accomplishments,  but  also  their  moral  dispo- 
sition and  their  particular  manner  in  life. 

Good  company  not  only  improves  our  manners, 
but  also  our  minds  ;  for  intelligent  associates  will: 
become  a  source  of  enjoyment,  as  well  as  of  edifica- 
tion. If  they  be  pious  they  will  improve  our  morals;: 
if  they  be  polite  they  will  tend  to  improve  our 
manners  ;  if  they  be  learned  they  will  add  to  our 
knowledge  and  correct  our  errors.  On  the  other  hand, 
if  they  be  immoral,  ignorant,  vulgar,  their  impress- 
will  most  surely  be  left  upon  us.  It  therefore  becomes. 
a  matter  of  no  trivial  concern  to  select  and  associate 
with  proper  company,  while  avoiding  that  which  is. 
certainly  prejudicial. 

We  should  always  seek  the  company  of  those  who 
are  known  to  possess  superior  merit  and  natural 
endowments  ;  for  then,  by  being  assimilated  in  man- 
ners and  disposition,  we  rise.  Whereas,  by  asso- 
ciating with  those  who  are  our  inferiors  in  every 
respect,  we  become  assimilated  with  them,  and  by 
that  assimilation  become  degraded.  Upon  the  whole 
much  care  and  judgment  are  necessary  in  selecting 
properly  that  company  which  will  be  profitable.  Yet 
this  is  not  a  point  of  so  great  interest  among  women 
as  men  ;  because  they  are  not  necessarily  thrown  into 
associations  of  such  diversity  of  character  as  the  lat- 
ter. Nevertheless,  the  greater  care  and  prudence 
are  requisite  to  women,  should  they  happen  in  such 
circles,  to  avoid  the  pertiicious  influence  of  such  asso- 
ciations, to  which  many  are  too  prone  to  yield. 


COMPANY. 


Good  company  is  that  which  is  composed  of  intelli- 
gent and  well-bred  persons  ;  whose  language  is  chaste 
and  good  ;  whose  sentiments  are  pure  and  edifying  ; 
whose  deportment  is  such  -as  pure  and  well-regulated 
education  and  correct  morals  dictate  ;  and  whose  con- 
duct is  directed  and  restrained  by  the  pure  precepts 
of  religion. 

When  we  have  the  advantage  of  such  company,  it 
should  be  the  object  of  our  zeal  "to  imitate  their  real 
perfections  ;  copy  their  politeness,  their  carriage,  their 
address,  and  the  easy  well-bred  turn  of  their  conver- 
sation ;  but  we  should  remember  that,  let  them  shine 
ever  so  bright,  their  vices  (if  they  have  any)  are  so 
many  blemishes,  which  we  should  no  more  endeavor 
to  imitate  than  we  should  make  artificial  warts  on  our 
faces  because  some  very  handsome  lady  happened  to 
have  one  by  nature.  We  should,  on  the  contrary, 
think  how  much  handsomer  she  would  have  been 
without  it." 

What  can  be  more  pleasing  and  more  angelic  than 
a  young  lady,  virtuous  and  adorned  with  the  graces 
and  elegances  of  finished  politeness  based  upon  a 
sound  intellect,  and  well  improved  mind  ! 

"For  her  inconstant  man  might  cease  to  range, 
And  gratitude  forbid  desire  to  change." 

The  reflection  '^  pleasing,  that  it  is  in  the  power  of 
all  to  acquire  an  elegance  of  manner,  although  they 
may  be  deprived  of  the  advantages  to  be  derived 
from  a  liberal  education.  At  least  they  may  attain 
to  that  degree  of  elegance  and  manners,  by  judicious 


FORCE    OF    CHARACTER. 


selection  of  company,  that  will  render  them  pleasing 
in  any  social  circle,  whether  at  home  or  abroad.  This 
will  excite  interest,  which  will  grow  into  respect  ;  from 
which  always  springs  that  pure,  ardent,  and  affection- 
ate attachment  which  alone  forms  the  only  generous 
and  indissoluble  connection  between  the  sexes  ;  that 
which  the  lapse  of  time  serves  only  to  confirm,  and 
nought  but  death  can  destroy. 

If  so  much  importance  be  attached  to  the  prudent 
selection  of  company  and  associates,  and  if  this  be  of 
such  vital  interest  to  every  young  female,  how  careful 
should  she  be  not  to  take  to  her  bosom  for  life  a  com- 
panion of  dissolute  habits  and  morals.  Such  an  act 
might  destroy  all  the  domestic  felicity  she  might  have 
hoped  to  enjoy,  and  be  a  source  of  constant  sorrow 
to  her  through  life. 

"Oh  shun,  my  friend,  av^id  that  dangerous  coast 
Where  peace  expires,  and  fair  affection's  lost." 

For  no  connection  or  friendship  can  be  fond  and  last- 
ing, where  a  conformity  of  inclination  and  disposition 
does  not  exist  ;  but  where  this  exists,  all  passions  and 
finer  feelings  of  the  soul  gently  harmonize,  and  form 
one  common  and  lasting  interest. 


»->^-   •»~^i**t-^»    .gf.  ..«ot 
7="     V-Tfref-V *v 


WHAT  you  can  effect  depends  on  what  you  are. 
You  put  your  whole  self  into  all  that  you  do.  If  that 
self  be  small,  and  lean,  and  mean,  your  entire  life- 


FORCE    OF    CHARACTER. 


work  is  paltry,  your  words  have  no  force,  your  influ- 
ence has  no  weight.  If  that  self  be  true  and  high,  pure 
and  kind,  vigorous  and  forceful,  your  strokes  are  blows, 
your  notes  staccatos,  your  work  massive,  your  influ- 
ence cogent  —  you  can  do  what  you  will.  Whatever 
your  position,  you  are  a  power,  you  are  felt  as  a 
kingly  spirit,  you  are  as  one  having  authority.  Too 
many  think  of  character  chiefly  in  its  relation  to  the 
life  beyond  the  grave.  We  certainly  would  not  have 
less  thought  of  it  with  reference  to  that  unknown  fu- 
ture, on  the  margin  of  which  some  of  us  undoubtedly 
are  at  this  moment  standing;  but  we  do  wish  that 
more  consideration  were  bestowed  upon  its  earthly 
uses.  We  would  have  young  men,  as  they  start  in 
life,  regard  character  as  a  capital,  much  surer  to  yield 
full  returns  than  any  other  capital,  unaffected  by 
panics  and  failures,  fruitful  when  all  other  investments 
lie  dormant,  having  as  certain  promise  in  the  present 
life  as  in  that  which  is  to  come. 

Franklin,  also,  attributed  his  success  as  a  public 
man,  not  to  his  talents  or  his  powers  of  speaking  — 
for  these  were  but  moderate  —  but  to  his  known 
integrity  of  character.  "Hence,  it  was,"  he  says, 
"that  I  had  so  much  weight  with  my  fellow-citizens. 
I  was  but  a  bad  speaker,  never  eloquent,  subject  to 
much  hesitation  in  my  choice  of  words,  hardly  correct- 
in  language,  and  yet  I  generally  carried  my  point." 
Character  creates  confidence  in  men  in  every  station 
of  life.  It  was  said  of  the  first  Emperor  Alexander  of 
Russia  that  his  personal  character  was  equivalent  to 
a  constitution.  During  the  wars  of  the  Fronde, 


FORCE    OF    CHARACTER. 


Montaigne  was  the  only  man  among  the  French 
gentry  who  kept  his  castle  gates  unbarred  ;  and  it 
was  said  of  him,  that  his  personal  character  was  worth 
more  to  him  than  a  regiment  of  horse. 

There  are  trying  and  perilous  circumstances  in  life, 
which  show  how  valuable  and  important  a  good  char- 
acter is.  It  is  a  sure  and  strong  staff  of  support, 
when  everything  else  fails.  It  is  the  Acropolis  which 
remains  impregnable,  imparting  security  and  peace 
when  all  the  other  defenses  have  been  surrendered  to 
the  enemy.  The  higher  walks  of  life  are  treacherous 
and  dangerous  ;  the  lower  full  of  obstacles  and  impedi- 
ments. We  can  only  be  secure  in  either,  by  maintain- 
ing those  principles  which  are  just,  praiseworthy,  and 
pure,  and  which  inspire  bravery  in  ourselves  and 
confidence  in  others. 

Truthfulness,  integrity  and  goodness  —  qualities 
that  hang  not  on  any  man's  breath  —  from  the  essence 
of  manly  character,  or,  as  one  of  our  old  writers  has 
it,  "that  inbred  loyalty  unto  virtue  which  can  serve 
her  without  a  livery."  He  who  possesses  these 
qualities,  united  with  strength  of  purpose,  carries 
with  him  a  power  which  is  irresistible.  He  is  strong 
to  do  good,  he  is  strong  to  resist  evil,  and  strong  to 
bear  up  under  difficulty  and  misfortune.  When  Ste- 
phen of  Coloma  fell  into  the  hands  of  his  base  assail- 
ants, and  they  asked  him,  in  derision,  "Where  is  now 
your  fortress?"  "Here,"  was  his  bold  reply,  placing 
his  hand  upon  his  heart.  It  is  in  misfortune  that  the 
character  of  the  upright  man  shines  forth  with  the 
greatest  lustre;  and,  when  all  else  fails,  he  takes 


FORCE    OF    CHARACTER. 


stand  upon  his  integrity  and  his  courage.  In  the 
famous  pass  of  Thermopylae,  the  three  hundred 
Spartans  withstood  the  enemy  with  such  vigor 
that  they  were  obliged  to  retire  wearied  and  con- 
quered during  three  successive  days,  till,  suddenly 
falling  upon  their  rear,  they  crushed  the  brave  defend- 
ers to  pieces. 

Strength  of  character  consists  of  two  things  — 
power  of  will  and  power  of  self-restraint.  It  requires 
two  things,  therefore,  for  its  existence  —  strong  feel- 
ings and  strong  command  over  them.  Now,  it  is 
here  we  make  a  great  mistake  ;  we  mistake  strong 
feelings  for  strong  character.  A  man  who  bears  all 
before  him,  before  whose  frown  domestics  tremble, 
and  whose  bursts  of  fury  make  the  children  of  the 
household  quake  —  because  he  has  his  will  obeyed, 
and  his  own  way  in  all  things,  we  call  him  a  strong 
man.  The  truth  is,  that  is  the  weak  man  ;  it  is  his 
passions  that  are  strong;  he,  mastered  by  them,  is 
weak.  You  must  measure  the  strength  of  a  man 
by  the  power  of  the  feelings  he  subdues,  not  by  the 
power  of  those  which  subdue  him.  And  hence  com- 
posure is  very  often  the  highest  result  of  strength. 

Did  we  never  see  a  man  receive  a  flagrant  insult 
and  only  .grow  a  little  pale,  and  then  reply  quietly? 
This  is  a  man  spiritually  strong.  Or  did  we  never  see 
a  man  in  anguish,  stand,  as  if  carved  out  of  solid 
rock,  mastering  himself?  Or  one  bearing  a  hopeless 
daily  trial  remain  silent  and  never  tell  the  world  what 
cankered  his  home  peace?  That  is  strength.  He 
who,  with  strong  passions,  remains  chaste  ;  he  who, 


118  FORCE    OF    CHARACTER. 

keenly  sensitive,  with  manly  powers  of  indignation 
in  him,  can  be  provoked,  and  yet  restrain  himself 
and  forgive  —  these  are  the  strong  men,  the  spiritual 
heroes. 

The  truest  criterion  of  a  man's  character  and  con- 
duct, is,  invariably,  to  be  found  in  the  opinion  of  his 
nearest  relations,  who  having  daily  and  hourly  oppor- 
tunities of  forming  a  judgment  of  him,  will  not  fail  in 
doing  so.  It  is  a  far  higher  testimony  in  his  favor, 
for  him  to  secure  the  esteem  and  love  of  a  few  indi- 
viduals within  the  privacy  of  his  own  home,  than  the 
good  opinion  of  hundreds  in  his  immediate  neighbor- 
hood, or  that  of  ten  times  the  number  residing  at  a 
distance.  The  most  trifling  actions  that  affect  a  man's 
credit  are  to  be  regarded.  The  sound  of  your  ham- 
mer at  five  in  the  morning,  or  nine  at  night,  heard 
by  a  creditor,  makes  him  easy  six  months  longer ;  but 
if  he  sees  you  at  a  billiard  table,  or  hears  your  voice 
at  a  tavern,  when  you  should  be  at  work,  he  sends 
for  his  money  the  next  day. 

Deportment,  honesty,  caution,  and  a  desire  to  do 
right  carried  out  in  practice,  are  to  human  character 
what  truth,  reverence,  and  love  are  to  religion.  They 
are  the  unvaried  elements  of  a  good  reputation.  Such 
virtues  can  never  be  reproached,  although  the  vulgar 
and  despicable  may  scoff  at  them;  but  it  is  not  so 
much  in  their  affected  revulsion  at  them,  as  it  is  in  the 
wish  to  reduce  them  to  the  standard  of  their  own  de- 
graded natures,  and  vitiated  passions.  Let  such 
scoff  and  sneer  —  let  them  laugh  and  ridicule  as  much 
as  they  may  —  a  strict,  upright,  onward  course  will 


INTEGRITY. 


evince  to  the  world  and  to  them,  that  there  is  more 
manly  independence  in  one  forgiving-  smile,  than  in 
all  the  pretended  exceptions  to  worthiness  in  the  so- 
ciety of  the  mean  and  vulgar.  Virtue  must  have  its 
admirers,  and  firmness  of  principle,  both  moral  and 
religious,  will  ever  command  the  proudest  encomium 
of  the  intelligent  world,  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other 
thing  connected  with  human  existence. 

That  character  is  power  is  true  in  a  much  higher 
sense  than  that  knowledge  is  power.  Mind  without 
heart,  intelligence  without  conduct,  cleverness  with- 
out goodness,  are  powers  in  their  way,  but  they  may 
be  powers  only  for  mischief.  We  may  be  instructed 
or  amused  by  them,  but  it  is  sometimes  as  difficult  to 
admire  them  as  it  would  be  to  admire  the  dexterity  of 
a  pickpocket  or  the  horsemanship  of  a  highwayman. 


YOUNG  men  look  about  them  and  see  a  great  meas- 
ure of  worldly  success  awarded  to  men  without  princi- 
ple. They  see  the  trickster  crowned  with  public 
honors,  they  see  the  swindler  rolling  in  wealth,  they 
see  the  sharp  man,  the  over-reaching  man,  the  un- 
principled man,  the  liar,  the  demagogue,  the  time- 
server,  the  trimmer,  the  scoundrel  who  cunningly 
manages,  though  constantly  disobeying  moral  law 
and  trampling  upon  social  courtesy,  to  keep  himself 
out  of  the  clutches  of  the  legal  police,  carrying  off 


120  INTEGRITY. 

the  prizes  of  wealth  and  place.  All  this  is  a  demoral- 
izing puzzle  and  a  fearful  temptation;  and  multitudes 
of  young  men  are  not  strong  enough  to  stand  before 
it.  They  ought  to  understand  that  in  this  wicked 
world  there  is  a  great  deal  of  room  where  there  is 
integrity.  Great  trusts  may  be  sought  by  scoundrels, 
but  great  trusts  never  seek  them ;  and  perfect  integrity 
is  at  a  premium  even  among  scoundrels.  There  are 
some  trusts  that  they  will  never  confer  on  each  other. 
There  are  occasions  where  they  need  the  services  of 
true  men,  and  they  do  not  find  them  in  shoals  and  in 
the  mud,  but  alone  and  in  pure  water. 

Integrity  is  the  foundation  of  all  that  is  high  in 
character  among  mankind ;  other  qualities  may  add  to 
its  splendor,  but  if  this  essential  requisite  be  wanting 
all  their  lustre  fades.  Our  integrity  is  never  worth 
so  much  to  us  as  when  we  have  lost  everything  to 
keep  it.  Integrity  without  knowledge  is  weak; 
knowledge  without  integrity  is  dangerous  and  dread- 
ful. Integrity,  however  rough,  is  better  than  smooth 
dissimulation.  Let  a  man  have  the  reputation  of 
being  fair  and  upright  in  his  dealings,  and  he  will 
possess  the  confidence  of  all  who  know  him.  Without 
these  qualities  every  other  merit  will  prove  unavail- 
ing. Ask  concerning  a  man,  "Isv  he  active  and 
capable  ?"  Yes.  "  Industrious,  temperate,  and  regular 
in  his  habits?"  O,  yes,  "Is  he  honest?  is  he 
trustworthy?"  Why,  as  to  that,  I  am  sorry  to  say  that 
he  is  not  to  be  trusted ;  he  wants  wratching ;  he  is  a 
little  tricky,  and  will  take  an  undue  advantage,  if  he 
can.  "Then  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  him," 


INTEGRITY.  121 

will  be  the  invariable  reply.  Why,  then,  is  honesty 
the  best  policy?  Because,,  without  it  you  will  get  a 
bad  name,  and  everybody  will  shun  you. 

The  world  is  always  asking-  for  men  who  are  not  for 
sale  ;'  men  who  are  honest,  sound  from  centre  to  circum- 
ference, true  to  the  heart's  core ;  men  who  will  condemn 
wrong  in  friend  or  foe,  in  themselves  as  well  as  others ; 
men  whose  consciences  are  as  steady  as  the  needle  to 
the  pole ;  men  who  will  stand  for  the  right  if  the 
heavens  totter  and  the  earth  reels ;  men  who  can  tell 
the  truth,  and  look  the  world  ana  the  devil  right  in 
the  eye ;  men  who  neither  brag  nor  run ;  men  who 
neither  flag  nor  flinch;  men  who  can  have  courage 
without  shouting  to  it;  men  in  whom  the  courage  of 
everlasting  life  runs  still,  deep,  and  strong ;  men  who 
do  not  cry,  nor  cause  their  voices  to  be  heard  on  the 
streets,  who  will  not  fail  nor  be  discouraged  till  judg- 
ment be  set  in  the  earth  ;  men  who  know  their  message 
and  tell  it ;  men  who  know  their  places  and  fill  them ; 
men  who  know  their  own  business ;  men  who  will  not 
lie ;  men  who  are  not  too  lazy  to  work,  not  too  proud 
to  be  poor ;  men  who  are  willing  to  eat  what  they 
have  earned,  and  wear  what  they  have  paid  for.  It  is 
always  safe  to  trust  those  who  can  trust  themselves, 
but  when  a  man  suspects  his  own  integrity,  it  is  time 
he  was  suspected  by  others.  Moral  degradation  always 
begins  at  home.  Honesty  is  never  gained  or  lost 
suddenly,  or  by  accident.  Moral  strength  or  moral 
weakness  takes  possession  of  us  by  slow  and  imper 
ceptible  degrees. 

Avoid  —  and  young  men  especially  —  avoid  all  base. 


122  INTEGRITY. 

servile,  underhand,  sneaking  ways.  Part  with  any- 
thing rather  than  your  integrity  and  conscious  recti- 
tude ;  flee  from  injustice  as  you  would  from  a  viper's 
fangs ;  avoid  a  lie  as  you  would  the  gates  of  hell. 
Some  there  are  who  are  callous  as  to  this.  Some 
there  are  who,  in  stooping  to  mercantile  dishonor  and 
business  —  in  driving  the  immoral  bargain  —  think 
they  have  done  a  clever  action.  Things  are  often 
called  by  their  wrong  names ;  duplicity  is  called 
shrewdness,  and  wrong-heartedness  is  called  long- 
headedness ;  evil  is  called  good,  and  good  evil,  and 
darkness  is  put  for  light,  and  light  for  darkness. 
Well !  be  it  so.  You  may  be  prosperous  in  your  own 
eyes ;  you  may  have  realized  an  envied  fortune ;  you 
may  have  your  carriage,  and  plate,  and  servants,  and 
pageantry ;  but  rather  the  shielding  and  the  crust  of 
bread  with  a  good  conscience,  than  the  stately  dwell- 
ing or  palace  without  it.  Rather  than  the  marble 
mausoleum,  which  gilds  and  smothers  tales  of  heart- 
less villainy  and  fraud  —  rather,  far  rather,  that  lowly 
heap  of  grass  we  were  wont  often  to  gaze  upon  in  an 
old  village  churchyard,  with  the  simple  record  of  a 
cotter's  virtues:  "Here  lies  an  honest  man!"  There 
is  nothing  more  sad  than  to  be  carried  like  a  vessel 
away  from  the  straight  course  of  principle ;  to  be  left 
a  stranded  outcast  thing  on  the  sands  of  dishonor : 
a  man  bolstering  himself  up  in  a  position  he  is  not 
entitled  to.  "That  is  a  man  of  capital"  says  the 
world,  pointing  to  an  unscrupulous  and  successful 
swindler.  Capital !  What  is  capital  ?  Is  it  what  a 
man  lias?  Is  it  counted  by  pounds  and  pence,  stocks 


POOR    BOYS.  123 

ind  shares,  by  houses  and  lands  ?  No  !  capital  is  not 
what  a  man  has,  but  what  a  man  is.  Character  is 
capital ;  honor  is  capital.  That  is  the  most  fearful  of 
ruin  when  character  is  gone,  when  integrity  is  sold, 
when  honor  is  bartered  for  a  miserable  mess  of  earthly 
pottage.  God  save  us  from  ruin  like  this !  Perish 
what  may ;  perish  gold,  silver,  houses,  lands ;  let  the 
winds  of  misfortune  dash  our  vessel  on  the  sunken 
rock,  but  let  integrity  be  like  the  valued  keepsake 
which  the  sailor  boy  lashed  with  the  rope  round  his 
body,  the  only  thing  we  care  to  save.  Let  one  die ; 
but  let  angels  read,  if  friends  cannot  afford  to  erect 
the  grave  stone:  "Here  lies  an  honest  man." 


MANY  men  have  been  obscure  in  their  origin  and 
birth,  but  great  and  glorious  in  life  and  death.  They 
have  been  born  and  nurtured  in  villages,  but  have 
reigned  and  triumphed  in  cities.  They  were  first  laid 
in  the  mangers  of  poverty  and  obscurity,  but  have 
afterwards  become  possessors  of  thrones  and  palaces. 
Their  fame  is  like  the  pinnacle  which  ascends  higher 
and  higher,  until  at  last  it  becomes  a  most  conspicu- 
ous and  towering  object  of  attraction. 

Columbus  was  the  son  of  a  weaver,  and  a  weaver 
himself.  Cervantes  wa^>  a  common  soldier.  Homer 
was  the  son  of  a  small  farmer.  Moliere  was  the  son 
of  a  tapestry  maker.  Demosthenes  was  the  son  of 


124  POOR    BOYS. 

a  cutler.  Terrence  was  a  slave.  Oliver  Cromwell 
was  the  son  of  a  London  brewer.  Howard  was  an 
apprentice  to  a  grocer.  Franklin  was  the  son  of  a 
tallow-chandler  and  soap  boiler.  Dr.  Thomas,  Bishop 
of  Worcester,  was  the  son  of  a  linen-draper.  Daniel 
Defoe,  was  a  hostler  and  son  of  a  butcher.  Whit- 
field  was  the  son  of  an  inn-keeper.  Virgil  was  the 
son  of  a  porter.  Horace  was  the  son  of  a  shop 
keeper.  Shakspeare  was  the  son  of  a  wood  stapler. 
Milton  was  the  son  of  a  money  scrivener.  Robert 
Burns  was  a  plowman  in  Ayrshire.  Mohammed, 

called  the  prophet,  was  a  driver  of  asses.     Madame 

/ 

Bernadotte  was  a  washerwoman  of  Paris.  Napoleon 
was  of  an  obscure  family  of  Corsica.  John  Jacob 
Astor  once  sold  apples  on  the  streets  of  New  York. 
Catherine,  Empress  of  Russia,  was  a  camp-follower. 
Cincinnatus  was  plowing  in  his  vineyard  when  the 
dictatorship  of  Rome  was  offered  him.  Elihu  Burritt 
was  a  blacksmith.  Daniel  Webster,  while  young, 
worked  on  a  farm.  Henry  Clay  was  "the  mill-boy  of 
the  slashes." 

The  young  man  who  thinks  of  taking  a  short  cut 
to  fortune,  should  deliberately  write  down  the  names 
of  a  dozen  of  our  richest  men,  and  he  will  find  that 
the  largest  part  of  the  wealth  of  the  Astors  and 
Browns  and  Stewarts  and  Vanderbilts  was  accumu- 
lated after  they  had  passed  their  fiftieth  year. 

"Without  fame  or  fortune  at  forty,  without  fame  or 
fortune  always"  is  the  sentiment  of  many,  oftener 
expressed  by  the  saying,  that  if  a  man  is  not  rich  at 
forty,  he  never  will  be.  It  was  after  forty  that  Sir 


POOR    BOYS. 


Walter  Scott  became  the  great  unknown  ;  it  was  after 
forty  that  Palmerston  was  found  to  be  England's 
greatest  prime  minister  of  the  century.  At  that  age, 
many  who  now  appear  prominently  in  our  political 
history  were  obscure  citizens.  Howe,  of  the  sewing- 
machine,  was  utterly  destitute  at  thirty-five,  a  million- 
aire six  years  later. 

A  long  time  ago,  a  little  boy,  twelve  years  old,  on 
his  road  to  Vermont,  stopped  at  a  country  tavern,  and 
paid  for  his  lodging  and  breakfast  by  sawing  wood, 
instead  of  asking  for  food  as  a  gift.  Fifty  years  later, 
the  same  boy  passed  that  same  little  inn  as  George 
Peabody,  the  banker,  whose  name  is  the  synonym  of 
magnificent  charities  —  the  honored  of  two  hemis- 
pheres. He  was  born  poor  in  Danvers,  Mass.,  and 
by  beginning  right  and  pursuing  a  course  of  strict 
honesty,  integrity,  industry,  activity  and  Christian 
benevolence,  he  has  been  able  to  amass  great  wealth. 
Some  years  since  he  made  a  generous  gift  to  his 
native  town  ;  and  also  remembered  the  city  of  Balti- 
more, Maryland,  where  he  long  resided,  by  a  liberal 
donation.  For  nearly  twenty-five  years,  having  done 
business  in  London,  and  being  past  sixty  years  old,  he 
had  given  ,£150,000  —  nearly  $750,000  —  to  be  devo- 
ted to  the  benefit  of  the  poor  of  that  city. 

When  Cornelius  Vanderbilt  was  a  young  man,  his 
mother  gave  him  fifty  dollars  of  her  savings  to  buy  a 
small  sail-boat,  and  he  engaged  in  the  business  of 
transporting  market-gardening  from  Staten  Island  to 
New  York  city.  When  the  wind  was  not  favorable 
he  would  work  his  way  over  the  shoals  by  pushing 


126  POOR    BOYS. 

the  boat  along  by  poles,  putting  his  own  shoulder  to 
the  pole,  and  was  very  sure  to  get  his  freight  to 
market  in  season.  This  energy  gave  him  always  a 
command  of  full  freights,  and  he  accumulated  money. 
After  awhile  he  began  to  build  and  run  steamboats, 
and  he  died  worth  more  than  eighty-five  millions  of 
dollars. 

Mr.  Tobin,  formerly  President  of  the  Hudson  River 
Railroad  Company,  is  a  millionaire.  He  is  not  yet 
forty  years  of  age.  He  began  life  as  a  steamboat 
clerk  with  Commodore  Vanderbilt.  When  he  took 
his  position  the  Commodore  gave  him  two  orders : 
first,  to  collect  fare  of  everybody  and  have  no  dead- 
heads on  the  boat ;  second,  to  start  the  boat  on  time, 
and  wait  for  nobody.  The  Commodore  then  lived  at 
Staten  Island.  Tobin  obeyed  his  orders  so  literally 
that  he  collected  fare  of  the  Commodore  the  first 
evening,  and  left  him  on  the  wharf  the  next  morning, 
as  the  boat  could  not  wait.  The  Commodore  was 
coming  down  the  wharf  leisurely,  and  supposed,  of 
course,  the  boat  would  wait  for  him.  He  proved  a 
man  after  Vanderbilt's  own  heart.  He  became  his 
confidential  clerk  and  broker,  bought  and  sold  Harlem 
and  made  for  himself  a  fortune. 

Stephen  Girard  left  his  native  country  at  the  age 
of  ten  or  twelve  years,  as  a  cabin  boy  on  a  vessel. 
He  came  to  New  York  in  that  capacity.  His  deport- 
ment was  distinguished  by  such  fidelity,  industry  and 
temperance,  that  he  won  the  attachment  and  confi- 
dence of  his  master,  who  generally  bestowed  upon 
him  the  appellation  of  "my  Stephen."  When  his 


POOR    BOYS.  ±27 

master  gave  up  business  he  promoted  Girard  to  the 
command  of  a  small  vessel.  Girard  was  a  self-taught 
man,  and  the  world  was  his  school.  It  was  a  favorite 
theme  with  him,  when  he  afterwards  grew  rich,  to 
relate  that  he  commenced  life  with  a  sixpence,  and  to 
insist  that  a  man's  best  capital  was  his  industry.  All 
professions  and  all  occupations,  which  afforded  a  just 
reward  for  labor,  were  alike  honorable  in  his  estima- 
tion. He  was  never  too  proud  to  work. 

In  the  time  of  the  yellow  fever,  in  1/93,  when  con- 
sternation had  seized  the  whole  population  of  the  city 
of  Philadelphia,  Stephen  Girard,  th^.i  a  rich  merchant, 
offered  his  services  as  a  nurse  in  the  hospital.  His 
offers  were  accepted,  and  in  the  performance  of  the 
most  loathsome  duties,  he  walked  unharmed  in  the 
midst  of  the  pestilence.  He  used  to  say  to  his  friends, 
"When  you  are  sick,  if  anything  ails  you,  do  not  go 
to  a  doctor,  but  come  to  me,  I  will  cure  you." 

Far  back  in  the  teens  of  the  present  century,  a 
young  man  asked  for  employment  in  the  Springfield 
armory ;  but  he  was  poor  and  modest,  and  had  no 
friends,  so  he  went  away  without  it ;  but,  feeling  the 
man  within  him,  he  sought  work  until  he  found  it. 
An  age  later,  he  visited  that  armory  a  second  time, 
not  as  a  common  day-laborer,  but  as  the  ablest 
speaker  of  the  House  of  Representatives,  and  for 
many  years  Governor  of  Massachusetts. 

Of  P.  R.  Spencer,  the  author  of  the  Spencerian 
system  of  penmanship,  it  is  said  that,  "the  smooth 
sand  beach  of  Lake  Erie  constituted  the  foolscap  in 
and  on  which,  for  want  of  other  material,  he  perfected 


128  POOR    BOYS. 

essentially  the  system  which  meets  such  general  favor 
in  our  common  and  commercial  schools,  and  in  our 
business  and  literary  circles."  When  we  reflect  upon 
the  immense  popularity  of  his  system,  which,  passing 
beyond  the  limits  of  our  own  country,  has  been 
re-engraved  in  England,  is  used  in  the  model  count- 
ing rooms  of  London,  Liverpool  and  Manchester, 
and  is  also  the  adopted  system  of  the  English  Depart- 
ment of  the  University  of  Zurich,  in  Switzerland,  we 
must  accord  to  its  honored  author  chaste  and  elevated 
powers  of  conception,  with  bold  and  tireless  grasp, 
of  just  apprehension,  and  agree  that  the  barefooted 
boy  of  fifty  years  ago  must  have  been  thinking, 
and  thinking  aright,  and  thinking  with  no  ordinary 
mind,  when  he  gave  to  his  coinings  in  the  sands  such 
vitality  of  science  that  the  world  has  adopted  and 
embalmed  them  as  the  most  beautiful  imagery  of  "the 
art." 

Masons  and  bricklayers  can  boast  of  Ben  Jonson, 
who  worked  at  the  building  of  Lincoln's  Inn  with  a 
trowel  in  his  hand  and  a  book  in  his  pocket ;  Edwards 
and  Telford,  the  engineers ;  Hugh  Miller,  the  geolo- 
gist, and  Allen  Cunningham,  the  writer  and  sculptor. 
John  Hunter,  the  physiologist,  Ronevey  and  Opie,  the 
painters,  Professor  Lee,  the  orientalist,  and  John 
Gibbons,  the  sculptor,  were  carpenters.  ,  Wilson,  the 
ornithologist,  Dr.  Livingstone,  the  missonary  trav- 
eler, and  Tannahill,  the  poet,  were  weavers.  Samuel 
Drew,  the  essayist,  and  Gifford,  the  editor  of  the 
"Quarterly  Review,"  were  shoemakers.  Admiral 
Hobson,  one  of  the  gallantest  of  British  seaman,  was 
originally  a  tailor. 


y  T 


FOR  THE    ? 


POOR     BOYS.  129 

It  is  not  good  for  human  nature  to  have  the  road  of 
life  made  too  easy.  Better  to  be  under  the  necessity 
of  working  hard  and  faring  meanly,  than  to  have 
everything-  done  ready  to  our  hand,  and  a  pillow  of 
down  to  repose  upon.  Indeed,  to  start  in  life  with 
comparatively  small  means  seems  so  necessary  as  a 
stimulus  to  work,  that  it  may  almost  be  set  down  as 
one  of  the  essential  conditions  to  success  in  life. 
Hence,  an  eminent  judge,  when  asked  what  contri- 
buted most  to  success  at  the  bar,  replied,  "Some 
succeed  by  great  talent,  some  by  high  connectipns, 
some  by  miracle,  but  the  majority  by  commencing 
without  a  shilling."  So  it  is  a  common  saying  that 
the  men  who  are  most  successful  in  business  are 
those  who  begin  the  world  in  their  shirt  sleeves ; 
whereas,  those  who  begin  with  fortunes  generally 
lose  them.  Necessity  is  always  the  first  stimulus 
to  industry,  and  those  who  conduct  it  with  pru- 
dence, perseverence  and  energy  will  rarely  fail. 
Viewed  in  this  light,  the  necessity  of  labor  is  not  a 
chastisement,  but  a  blessing  —  the  very  root  and 
spring  of  all  that  we  call  progress  in  individuals,  and 
civilization  in  nations.  It  may,  indeed,  be  questioned 
whether  a  heavier  curse  could  be  imposed  on  man 
than  the  complete  gratification  of  all  his  wishes  with- 
out effort  on  his  part,  leaving  nothing  for  his  hopes, 
desires  or  struggles.  The  feeling  that  life  is  destitute 
of  any  motive  or  necessity  for  action,  must  be,  of  all 
others,  the  most  distressing  and  the  most  insupport- 
able to  a  rational  being. 


130  OCCUPATION. 


THE  man  who  has  no  occupation  is  in  a  bad  plight. 
If  he  is  poor,  want  is  ever  and  anon  pinching-  him ; 
if  he  is  rich,  enui  is  a  more  relentless  tormentor  than 
want.  An  unoccupied  man  cannot  be  happy  —  nor 
can  one  who  is  improperly  occupied.  We  have 
swarms  of  idlers  among  us,  the  worst  of  whom  are 
gentlemen  idlers ;  that  is,  men  who  pursue  no  useful 
occupation,  and  sponge  their  way,  often  enjoying 
the  luxuries  of  life,  living  upon  the  hard  earnings 
of  others  —  the  cancers  of  community  —  pseudo  pat- 
terns of  bipeds  —  leeches  on  the  body  politic. 

In  this  widespread  and  expanding  country,  no  one 
need  be  without  some  useful  occupation.  All  trades 
and  professions  are  open,  from  the  honest  hod-car- 
rier, up  to  the  highest  place  in  the  agricultural,  com- 
mercial and  mechanical  departments,  and  from  the 
humblest,  but  not  least  useful  teacher  of  A,  B,  C,  up 
to  the  pinnacle  of  professional  fame.  Those  occupa- 
tions that  require  manual  labor  are  the  surest,  most 
healthy,  and  most  independent. 

Men  or  women  with  no  business,  nothing  to  do,  are 
an  absolute  pest  to  society.  They  are  thieves,  steal- 
ing that  which  is  not  theirs ;  beggars,  eating  that 
which  they  have  not  earned ;  drones,  wasting  the 
fruits  of  others'  industry  ;  leeches,  sucking  the  blood  of 
others  ;  evil-doers,  setting  an  example  of  idleness  and 
dishonest  living;  hypocrites,  shining  in  stolen  and 


OCCUPATION. 


false  colors  ;  vampires,  eating  out  the  life  of  the  com- 
munity. Frown  upon  them,  O  youth,  Learn  in 
your  heart  to  despise  their  course  of  life. 

Many  of  our  most  interesting-  youth  waste  a  great 
portion  of  their  early  life  in  fruitless  endeavors  at 
nothing.  They  have  no  trade,  no  profession,  no 
object  before  them,  nothing  to  do  ;  and  yet  have  a 
great  desire  to  do  something,  and  something  worthy 
of  themselves.  They  try  this  and  that,  and  the  other; 
offer  themselves  to  do  anything,  and  everything,  and 
yet  know  how  to  do  nothing.  Educate  themselves, 
they  cannot,  for  they  know  not  what  they  should  do 
it  for.  They  waste  their  time,  energies,  and  little 
earnings  in  endless  changes  and  wanderings.  They 
have  not  the  stimulus  of  a  fixed  object  to  fasten  their 
attention  and  awaken  their  energies  ;  not  a  known 
prize  to  win.  They  wish  for  good  things,  but  have 
no  way  to  attain  them  ;  desire  to  be  useful,  but  little 
means  for  being  so.  They  lay  plans,  invent  schemes, 
form  theories,  build  castles,  but  never  stop  to  execute 
and  realize  them.  Poor  creatures  !  All  that  ails  them 
is  the  want  of  an  object  —  a  single  object.  They  look 
at  a  hundred  things,  and  see  nothing.  If  they  should 
look  steadily  at  one,  they  would  see  it  distinctly. 
They  grasp  at  random  at  a  hundred  things  and  catch 
nothing.  It  is  like  shooting  among  a  scattered  flock 
of  pigeons.  The  chances  are  doubtful.  This  will 
never  do  —  no,  never.  Success,  respectability,  and 
happiness  are  found  in  a  permanent  business.  An 
early  choice  of  some  business,  devotion  to  it,  and  pre- 
paration for  it,  should  be  made  by  every  youth. 


132  OCCUPATION. 

When  the  two  objects,  business  and  character,  as 
the  great  end  of  life,  are  fairly  before  a  youth,  what 
then  ?  Why,  he  must  attain  those  objects.  Will 
wishes  and  prayers  bring  them  into  his  hands  ?  By 
no  means.  He  must  work  as  well  as  wish,  labor  as 
well  as  pray.  His  hand  must  be  as  stout  as  his 
heart,  his  arm  as  strong  as  his  head.  Purpose  must 
be  followed  by  action.  The  choosing-  of  an  occupa- 
tion, however,  is  not  a  small  thing;  great  mistakes 
are  made  and  often  the  most  worthy  pursuits  are  left. 
The  young  man  who  leaves  the  farm-field  for  the  mer- 
chant's desk,  or  the  lawyer's  or  doctor's  office,  think- 
ing to  dignify  or  ennoble  his  toil,  makes  a  sad  mis- 
take. He  passes  by  that  step  from  independence  to 
vassalage.  He  barters  a  natural  for  an  artificial  pur- 
suit ;  and  he  must  be  the  slave  of  the  caprice  of  cus 
tomers,  and  the  chicane  of  trade,  either  to  suppor. 
himself  or  to  acquire  a  fortune.  The  more  artificial  a 
man's  pursuit,  the  more  debasing  is  it,  morally  and 
physically.  To  test  it,  contrast  the  merchant's  clerk 
with  the  plow-boy.  The  former  may  have  the  most 
exterior  polish,  but  the  latter,  under  his  rough  out- 
side, possesses  the  true  stamina.  He  is  the  freer, 
franker,  happier,  and  nobler  man.  Would  that  young 
men  might  judge  of  the  dignity  of  labor  by  its  use- 
fulness, rather  than  by  the  superficial  glosses  it  wears. 
Therefore,  we  never  see  a  man's  nobility  in  his  kid 
gloves  and  toilet  adornments,  but  in  that  sinewy  arm, 
whose  outlines,  browned  by  the  sun,  betoken  a  hardy, 
honest  toil,  under  whose  farmer's  or  mechanic's  vest 
the  kingliest  heart  may  beat. 


OCCUPATION.  133 

Above  all,  the  notion  that  the  "three  black  graces," 
Law,  Medicine  and  Ministry,  must  be  worshiped  by 
the  candidate  for  respectability  and  honor,  has  done 
incalculable  damage  to  society.  It  has  spoiled  many 
a  good  carpenter,  done  injustice  to  the  sledge  and  the 
anvil,  cheated  the  goose  and  the  shears  out  of  their 
rights,  and  committed  fraud  on  the  corn  and  the 
potato  field.  Thousands  have  died  of  broken  hearts 
in  these  professions  —  thousands  who  might  have 
been  happy  at  the  plow,  or  opulent  behind  the  coun- 
ter; thousands,  dispirited  and  hopeless,  look  upon 
the  healthful  and  independent  calling  of  the  farmer 
with  envy  and  chagrin ;  and  thousands  more,  by  a 
worse  fate  still,  are  reduced  to  necessities  which 
degrade  them  in  their  own  estimation,  rendering  the 
most  brilliant  success  but  a  wretched  compensation 
for  the  humilation  with  which  it  is  accompanied,  and 
compelling  them  to  grind  out  of  the  miseries  of  their 
fellow  men  the  livelihood  which  is  denied  to  their 
legitimate  exertions.  The  result  of  all  this  is,  that 
the  world  is  full  of  men  who,  disgusted  with  their 
vocations,  getting  their  living  by  their  weakness 
instead  of  by  their  strength,  are  doomed  to  hopeless 
inferiority.  "If  you  choose  to  represent  the  various 
parts  in  life,"  says  Sydney  Smith,  "by  holes  in  a  table 
of  different  shapes  —  some  circular,  some  triangular, 
some  square,  some  oblong  —  and  the  persons  acting 
these  parts  by  bits  of  wood  of  similar  shapes,  we 
shall  generally  find  that  the  triangular  person  has  got 
into  the  square  hole,  the  oblong  into  the  triangular, 
while  the  square  person  has  squeezed  himself  into  the 


134  OCCUPATION. 

round  hole."  A  French  writer  on  agriculture  ob- 
serves that  it  is  impossible  profitably  to  improve  land 
by  trying-  forcibly  to  change  its  natural  character  —  as 
by  bringing  sand  to  clay,  or  clay  to  sand.  The  only 
true  method  is  to  adapt  the  cultivation  to  the  nature 
of  the  soil.  So  with  the  moral  or  intellectual  quali- 
ties. Exhortation,  self-determination  may  do  much 
to  stimulate  and  prick  a  man  on  in  a  wrong  career 
against  his  natural  bent ;  but,  when  the  crisis  comes, 
this  artificial  character  thus  laboriously  induced  will 
break  down,  failing  at  the  very  time  when  it  is  most 
wanted. 

No  need  of  spurs  to  the  little  Handel  or  the  boy 
Bach  to  study  music,  when  one  steals  midnight  inter- 
views with  a  smuggled  clavichord  in  a  secret  attic,  and 
the  other  copies  whole  books  of  studies  by  moon- 
light, for  want  of  a  candle,  churlishly  denied.  No 
need  of  whips  to  the  boy-painter,  West,  when  he 
begins  in  a  garret,  and  plunders  the  family  cat  for 
bristles  to  make  his  brushes.  On  the  other  hand  to 
spend  years  at  college,  at  the  work-bench,  or  in  a 
store,  and  then  find  that  the  calling  is  a  wrong  one,  is 
disheartening  to  all  but  men  of  the  toughest  fibre. 
The  discovery  shipwrecks  the  feeble,  and  plunges 
ordinary  minds  into  despair.  Doubly  trying  is  this 
discovery  when  one  feels  that  the  mistake  was  made 
in  defiance  of  friendly  advice,  or  to  gratify  a  freak  of 
fancy  or  an  idle  whim.  The  sorrows  that  come  upon 
us  by  the  will  of  God,  or  through  the  mistakes  of  our 
parents,  we  can  submit  to  with  comparative  resigna- 
tion ;  but  the  sorrows  which  we  have  wrought  by  our 


EMPLOYMENT. 


own  hand,  the  pitfalls  into  which  we  have  fallen  by 
obstinately  going-  on  our  own  way,  these  are  the  sore 
places  of  memory  which  no  time  and  no  patience  can 
salve  over. 

Be  what  nature  intended  you  for,  and  you  will  suc- 
ceed ;  be  anything  else,  and  you  will  be  ten  thousand 
times  worse  than  nothing. 

It  is  an  uncontroverted  truth,  that  no  man  ever 
made  an  ill  figure  who  understood  his  own  talents, 
nor  a  good  one  who  mistook  them.  Let  no  young 
man  of  industry  and  perfect  honesty  despair  because 
his  profession  and  calling  is  crowded.  Let  him 
always  remember  that  there  is  room  enough  at  the 
top,  and  that  the  question  whether  he  is  ever  to  reach 
the  top,  or  rise  above  the  crowd  at  the  base  of  the 
pyramid,  will  be  decided  by  the  way  in  which  he 
improves  the  first  ten  years  of  his  active  life  in  secur- 
ing to  himself  a  thorough  knowledge  of  his  profession, 
and  a  sound  moral  and  intellectual  culture. 


I  TAKE  it  that  men  and  women  were  made  for  busi- 
ness, for  activity,  for  employment.  Activity  is  the 
life  of  us  all.  To  do  and  to  bear  is  the  duty  of  life. 
We  know  that  employment  makes  the  man  in  a  very 
great  measure.  A  man  with  no  employment,  nothing 
to  do,  is  scarcely  a  man.  The  secret  of  making  men 
is  to  put  them  to  work,  and  keep  them  at  it.  It  is 


136  EMPLOYMENT. 

not  study,  not  instruction,  not  careful  moral  training, 
not  good  parents,  not  good  society  that  makes  men. 
These  are  means ;  but  back  of  these  lies  the  grand 
molding  influence  of  men's  life.  It  is  employment. 
A  man's  business  does  more  to  make  him  than  every 
thing  else.  It  hardens  his  muscles,  strengthens  his 
body,  quickens  his  blood,  sharpens  his  mind,  corrects 
his  judgment,  wakes  up  his  inventive  genius,  puts  his 
wits  to  work,  starts  him  on  the  race  of  life,  arouses 
ambition,  makes  him  feel  that  he  is  a  man  and  must 
fill  a  man's  shoes,  do  a  man's  work,  bear  a  man's  part 
in  life,  and  show  himself  a  man  in  that  part.  No  man 
feels  himself  a  man  who  is  not  doing  a  man's  business. 
A  man  without  employment  is  not  a  man.  He  does 
not  prove  by  his  works  that  he  is  a  man.  He  cannot 
act  a  man's  part.  A  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  of  bone 
and  muscle  is  not  a  man.  A  good  cranium  full  of 
brains  is  not  a  man.  The  bone  and  muscle  and  brain 
must  know  how  to  act  a  man's  part,  do  a  man's  work, 
think  a  man's  thoughts,  mark  out  a  man's  path,  and 
bear  a  man's  weight  of  character  and  duty  before 
they  constitute  a  man.  A  man  is  body  and  soul  in 
action.  A  statue,  if  well  dressed,  may  appear  to  be 
a  man ;  so  may  a  human  being.  But  to  be  a  man, 
and  appear  to  be,  are  two  very  different  things. 
Human  beings  grow,  men  are  made.  The  being  that 
grows  to  the  stature  of  a  man  is  not  a  man  till  he  is 
made  one.  The  grand  instrumentality  of  man-mak- 
ing is  employment.  The  world  has  long  since  learned 
that  men  cannot  be  made  without  employment.  Hence 
it  sets  its  boys  to  work ;  gives  them  trades,  callings, 


EMPLOYMENT. 


professions  ;  puts  the  instruments  of  man-making  into 
their  hands  and  tells  them  to  work  out  their  manhood. 
And  the  most  of  them  do  it  somehow,  not  always  very 
well.  The  men  who  fail  to  make  themselves  a  respect- 
able manhood  are  the  boys  who  are  put  to  no  busi- 
ness, the  young  men  who  have  nothing-  to  do  ;  the 
male  beings  that  have  no  employment.  We  have 
them  about  us  ;  walking  nuisances  ;  pestilential  gas- 
bags ;  fetid  air-bubbles,  who  burst  and  are  gone. 
Our  men  of  wealth  and  character,  of  worth  and 
power,  have  been  early  bound  to  some  useful  employ- 
ment. Many  of  them  were  unfortunate  orphan  boys, 
whom  want  compelled  to  work  for  bread  —  the  chil- 
dren of  penury  and  lowly  birth.  In  their  early  boy- 
hood they  buckled  on  the  armor  of  labor,  took  upon 
their  little  shoulders  heavy  burdens,  assumed  respon- 
sibilities, met  fierce  circumstances,  contended  with 
sharp  opposition,  chose  the  ruggedest  paths  of 
employment  because  they  yielded  the  best  remunera- 
tion, and  braved  the  storms  of  toil  till  they  won  great 
victories  for  themselves  and  stood  before  the  world  in 
the  beauty  and  majesty  of  noble  manhood.  This  is 
the  way  men  are  made.  There  is  no  other  way. 
Their  powers  are  developed  in  the  field  of  employ- 
ment. 

Men  are  not  born  ;  they  are  made.  Genius,  worth, 
power  of  mind  are  more  made  than  born.  Genius 
born  may  grovel  in  the  dust;  genius  made  will  mount 
to  the  skies.  Our  great  and  good  men  who  stand 
along  the  paths  of  history  bright  and  shining  lights 
are  witnesses  of  these  truths.  They  stand  there  as 
everlasting  pleaders  for  employment. 


138  TRUE    GREATNESS. 


THE  forbearing'  use  of  power  is  a  sure  attribute  of 
true  greatness.  Indeed,  we  may  say  that  power, 
physical,  moral,  purely  social  or  political,  is  one  of 
the  touchstones  of  genuine  greatness. 

The  power  which  the  husband  has  over  his  wife, 
in  which  we  must  include  the  impunity  with  which  he 
maybe  unkind  to  her;  the  father  over  his  children; 
the  old  over  the  young,  and  the  young  over  the 
aged;  the  strong  over  the  weak;  the  officer  over  his 
men ;  the  master  over  his  hands  ;  the  magistrate 
over  the  citizens ;  the  employer  over  the  employed ; 
the  rich  over  the  poor ;  the  educated  over  the  unlet- 
tered;  the  experienced  over  the  confiding.  The 
forbearing  and  inoffensive  use  of  all  this  power  or 
authority,  or  a  total  abstinence  from  it,  where  the 
case  admits  it,  will  show  the  true  greatness  in  a  plain 
light. 

"You  are  a  plebeian, "  said  a  patrician  to  Cicero. 
"I  am  a  plebeian,"  said  the  eloquent  Roman  ;  "the 
nobility  of  my  family  begins  with  me;  that  of  yours 
will  end  with  you.  I  hold  no  man  deserves  to  be 
crowned  with  honor  whose  life  is  a  failure;  and  he 
who  lives  only  to  eat  and  drink  and  accumulate 
money,  is  a  failure.  The  world  is  no  better  for  his 
living  in  it.  He  never  wiped  a  tear  from  a  sad  face 
—  never  kindled  a  fire  upon  a  frozen  hearth.  I  repeat 
with  emphasis,  he  is  a  failure.  There  is  no  flesh  in 


TRUE    GREATNESS.  139 

his  heart;    he  worships  no  God  but  gold."     These 
were  the  words  of  a  heathen. 

Man  is  to  be  rated,  not  by  his  hoards  of  gold,  not 
by  the  simple  or  temporary  influence  he, may  for  a 
time  exert ;  but  by  his  unexceptionable  principles 
relative  both  to  character  and  religion.  Strike  out 
these,  and  what  is  he?  A  brute  without  a  virtue  — 
a  savage  without  a  sympathy !  Take  them  away 
and  his  manship  is  gone ;  he  no  longer  lives  in  the 
image  of  his  maker!  A  cloud  of  sin  hangs  darkly 
on  his  brow ;  there  is  ever  a  tempest  on  his  counte- 
nance, the  lightning  in  his  glance,  the  thunder  in 
words  and  the  rain  and  whirlwind  in  the  breathing 
of  his  angry  soul.  No  smile  gladdens  his  lip  to  tell 
that  love  is  playing  there ;  no  sympathizing  glow 
illuminates  his  cheek.  Every  word  burns  with  mal- 
ice, and  that  voice  —  the  mystic  gift  of  heaven  — 
grates  as  harshly  on  the  timid  ear  as  rushing  thunders 
beating  amid  falling  cliffs  and  tumbling  cataracts. 

That  which  especially  distinguishes  a  high  order 
of  man  from  a  low  order  of  man  —  that  which  consti- 
tutes human  goodness,  human  greatness,  human  no- 
bleness—  is  surely  not  the  degree  of  enlightenment 
with  which  men  pursue  their  own  advantage  ;  but  it 
is  self-forgetfulness;  it  is  self-sacrifice;  it  is  the  disre- 
gard of  personal  pleasure,  personal  indulgence,  per- 
sonal advantage,  remote  or  present,  because  some  . 
other  line  of  conduct  is  more  right. 

The  truest  greatness  is  that  which  is  unseen, 
unknown.  Public  martyrdom  of  every  shade  has  a 
certain  eclat  and  popularity  connected  with  it  that  will 


140  IDLENESS. 

often  'bear  men  up  to  endure  with  courage  its  trials ; 
but  those  who  suffer  alone,  without  sympathy,  for 
truth  or  principle,  those  who,  unnoticed  by  men, 
maintain,  their  post,  and  in  obscurity,  and  amid  dis- 
couragement, patiently  fulfill  their  trust,  these  are  the 
real  heroes  of  the  age,  and  the  suffering  they  bear  is 


true  greatness. 


Let  man  go  abroad  with  just  principles,  and  what 
is  he  ?  An  exhaustless  fountain  in  a  vast  desert ;  a 
glorious  sun  shining  ever,  dispelling  every  vestige  of 
darkness.  There  is  love  animating  his  heart,  sympa- 
thy breathing  in  every  tone.  Tears  of  pity  —  dew 
drops  of  the  soul  —  gather  in  his  eye  and  gush  impet- 
uously down  his  cheek.  A  good  man  is  abroad,  and 
the  world  knows  and  feels  it.  Beneath  his  smiles 
lurks  no  degrading  passions.  Within  his  heart  there 
slumbers  no  guile.  He  is  not  exalted  in  moral  pride, 
not  elevated  in  his  own  views ;  but  honest,  moral  and 
virtuous  before  the  world.  He  stands  throned  on 
truth ;  his  fortress  is  wisdom  and  his  dominion  is  the 
vast  and  limitless  world.  Always  upright,  kind  and 
sympathizing ;  always  attached  to  just  principles  and 
actuated  by  the  same,  governed  by  the  highest  motives 
in  doing  good. 


fell 


MANY  moralists  have  remarked  that  pride  has,  of 
all  human  vices,  the  widest  dominion,  appears  in  the 
greatest  multiplicity  of  forms,  and  lies  hidden  under 


IDLENESS. 


the  greatest  variety  of  disguises  —  which  disguises, 
like  the  moon's  veils  of  brightness,  are  both  its  lustre 
and  its  shade,  and  betray  it  to  others  though  they  hide 
it  from  themselves. 

It  is  not  our  intention  to  degrade  pride  from  its  pre- 
eminence, yet  we  know  not  whether  idleness  may  not 
maintain  a  very  doubtful  and  obstinate  position.  Idle- 
ness predominates  in  many  lives  where  it  is  not  sus- 
pected, for,  being  a  vice  which  terminates  in  itself,  it 
may  be  enjoyed  without  injury  to  others,  and  therefore 
is  not  watched  like  fraud,  which  endangers  property, 
or  like  pride,  which  naturally  seeks  its  gratification  in 
other's  inferiority. 

Idleness  is  a  silent  and  peaceful  quality  that  neither 
raises  envy  by  ostentation  nor  hatred  by  opposition. 
There  are  some  who  profess  idleness  in  its  full  dignity; 
they  boast  because  they  do  nothing,  and  thank  their 
stars  that  they  have  nothing  to  do  —  who  sleep  every 
night  until  they  cannot  sleep  any  longer,  and  then  rise 
only  that  exercise  may  enable  them  to  sleep  again; 
who  prolong  the  reign  of  darkness  by  double  curtains, 
and  never  see  the  sun  but  to  tell  him  how  they  hate 
his  beams  ;  whose  whole  labor  is  to  vary  the  posture 
of  indulgence,  and  whose  day  differs  from  their  night 
but  as  a  couch  or  a  chair  differs  from  a  bed.  These 
are  the  true  and  open  votaries  of  idleness,  who  exist 
in  a  state  of  unruffled  stupefied  laziness,  forgetting 
and  forgotten,  who  have  long  ceased  to  live,  and  at 
whose  death  the  survivors  can  only  say  that  they 
have  ceased  to  breathe.  Such  a  person  is  an  annoy- 
ance —  he  is  of  no  use  to  anybody  —  he  is  an  intruder 


142  IDLENESS. 

in  the  busy  thoroughfare  of  every-day  life  —  he  is  of 
no  advantage  ;  he  annoys  busy  men  —  he  makes  them 
unhappy  ;  he  may  have  an  income  to  support  his  idle- 
ness, or  he  may  sponge  on  his  good-natured  friends, 
but  in  either  case  he  is  despised ;  he  is  a  criminal 
prodigal,  and  a  prolific  author  of  want  and  shame ;  he 
is  a  confused  work-shop  for  the  devil  to  tinker  in,  and 
no  good  can  ever  be  expected  from  him ;  in  short,  he 
is  a  nuisance  in  the  world,  and  needs  abatement  for 
the  public  good.  Idleness  is  the  bane  of  body  and 
mind,  the  nurse  of  haughtiness,  the  chief  author  of  all 
mischief,  one  of  seven  deadly  sins  —  the  cushion  upon 
which  the  devil  reposes,  and  a  great  cause  not  only 
of  melancholy  but  of  many  other  diseases,  for  the 
mind  is  naturally  active,  and  if  it  be  not  occupied  about 
some  honest  business,  it  rushes  into  mischief  or  sinks 
into  melancholy.  Of  all  contemptible  things,  there  is 
nothing  half  so  wretched  as  a  lazy  man.  The  Turks 
say  the  devil  tempts  everybody,  but  the  idle  man 
tempts  the  devil.  When  we  notice  that  a  man  can  be 
a  professional  loafer,  a  successful  idler,  with  less  capi- 
tal, less  brains,  than  are  required  to  succeed  in  any 
other  profession,  we  cannot  blame  him  so  much  after 
all,  for  those  are  things  that  the  idler  is  generally 
destitute  of;  and  we  can  notice  it  as  an  actual  fact, 
that  they  succeed  in  their  business,  and  it  costs  them 
no  energy,  no  brains,  no  character,  ''no  nothing." 
They  are  dead  beats ;  they  should  not  be  classed 
among  the  living  —  they  are  a  sort  of  dead  men  that 
cannot  be  buried. 

Idleness  is    an    ingredient    in    the    upper    current, 


IDLENESS.  143 

which  was  scarcely  known,  and  never  countenanced, 
in  the  good  old  linsey-woolsey,  tow-and-linen,  mush- 
and-milk,  pork-and-potato  times  of  the  pilgrim  fathers, 
and  revolutionary  patriots.  We  now  have  those  among 
us,  who  would  rather  go  hungry  and  be  clad  in  rags, 
than  to  work.  We  also*  have  a  numerous  train  of 
gentleman  idlers,  who  pass  down  the  stream  of  life 
at  the  expense  of  their  fellow  passengers.  They  live 
well,  and  dress  well,  as  long  as  possible,  by  borrow- 
ing and  sponging,  and  then  take  to  gambling,  swind- 
ling, stealing,  robbing;  and  often  pass  on  for  years, 
before  justice  overtakes  them.  So  long  as  these  per- 
sons can  keep  up  fashionable  appearances,  and  elude 
the  police,  they  are  received  into  the  company  of  the 
upper  ten  thousand.  Many  an  idle  knave,  by  means 
of  a  fine  coat,  a  lily  hand,  and  a  graceful  bow,  has 
been  received  into  the  polite  circles  of  society  with 
eclat,  and  walked,  rough-shod,  over  a  worthy  young 
mechanic  or  farmer,  who  had  too  much  good  sense  to 
make  a  dash,  or  imitate  the  monkey-shines  of  an 
itinerant  dandy.  A  fine  dress,  in  the  eyes  of  some, 
covers  more  sins  than  charity. 

If  thus  the  young  man  wishes  to  be  nobody,  his 
way  is  easy.  He  need  only  go  to  the  drinking  saloon 
to  spend  his  leisure  time ;  he  need  not  drink  much  at 
first,  only  a  little  beer,  or  some  other  drink ;  in  the 
meantime  play  dominoes,  checkers,  or  something  else, 
to  kill  time,  so  that  he  is  sure  not  to  read  any  useful 
books.  If  he  reads  at  all,  let  it  be  some  of  the  dime 
novels  of  the  day.  Thus  go  on,  keep  his  stomach 
full  and  his  head  empty,  and  he  will  soon  graduate  a 


144  IDLENESS. 

nobody,  unless  (as  it  is  quite  likely)  he  should  turn 
out  a  drunkard  or  a  professional  gambler,  which  is 
worse  than  a  nobody. 

Young-  man,  if  you  do  not  wish  to  be  a  nobody,  or 
somebody  much  worse  than  nobody,  then  guard  your 
youth.  A  lazy  youth  will  be  a  lazy  man,  just  as  sure 
as  a  crooked  sapling  makes  a  crooked  tree.  Who 
ever  saw  a  youth  grow  up  in  idleness  who  did  not 
make  a  lazy,  shiftless  vagabond  when  he  was  old 
enough  to  be  a  man,  though  he  was  not  a  man  by 
character.  The  great  mass  of  thieves,  paupers  and 
criminals  have  come  to  what  they  are  by  being  brought 
up  to  do  nothing  useful.  Laziness  grows  on  people ; 
it  begins  in  cob-web  and  ends  in  iron  chains.  If  you 
will  be  nothing,  just  wait  to  be  somebody.  That 
man  that  waits  for  an  opportunity  to  do  much  at  once, 
may  breathe  out  his  life  in  idle  wishes,  and  finally  regret 
his  useless  intentions  and  barren  zeal  —  a  young  man 
idle,  an  old  man  needy.  Idleness  travels  very  leis- 
urely along,  and  poverty  soon  overtakes  her  —  to  be 
idle  is  to  be  poor.  It  is  said  that  pride  and  poverty 
are  inconsistent  companions,  but  when  idleness  unites 
them  the  depth  of  wretchedness  is  complete.  Leisure 
is  sweet  to  those  who  have  earned  it,  but  burdensome 
to  those  who  get  it  for  nothing. 

Arouse  yourself,  young  man !  Shake  off  the 
wretched  and  disgraceful  habits  of  the  do-nothing,  if 
you  have  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  incur  them,  and 
go  to  work  at  once!  "But  what  shall  I  do?"  you 
perhaps  ask.  Anything,  rather  than  continue  in 
dependent,  and  enfeebling,  and  demoralizing  idleness. 


EDUCATION.  145 

If  you  can  get  nothing"  else  to  do,  sweep  the  streets. 
But  you  are  "ashamed"  to  do  that.  If  so,  your  shame 
has  been  very  slow  in  manifesting  itself,  seeing  how 
long  you  have  been  acting,  on  life's  great  stage,  the 
despicable  parts  of  drone  and  loafer,  without  shame ! 
Idler !  Take  the  foregoing  home  to  yourself. 
Don't  try  to  persuade  yourself  that  the  cap  dose  n't 
fit  you.  Honestly  acknowledge  its  fitness.  It  will 
be  a  great  point  gained,  to  become  honest  with  your- 
self. It  will  be  a  step  forward  —  a  step  toward  that 
justice  to  others  which  your  present  conduct  abso- 
lutely ignores ! 


MANUFACTURERS  find  intelligent,  educated  mechanics 
more  profitable  to  employ,  even  at  higher  wages,  than 
those  who  are  uneducated.  We  have  never  met  any 
one  who  had  much  experience  in  employing  large 
numbers  of  men  who  did  not  hold  this,  opinion,  and, 
as  a  general  rule,  those  manufacturers  are  most  suc- 
cessful who  are  most  careful  to  secure  intelligent  and 
skillful  workmen. 

It  requires  extensive  observation  to  enable  one 
even  partially  to  appreciate  the  wonderful  extent  to 
which  all  the  faculties  are  developed  by  mental  culti- 
vation. The  nervous  system  grows  more  vigorous 
and  active,  the  touch  is  more  sensitive,  and  there  is 
greater  mobility  in  the  hand. 
10 


146  EDUCATION. 

We  once  knew  a  weaving  room  filled  with  girls 
above  the  average  in  character  and  intelligence,  and 
there  was  one  girl  among  them  who  had  been  highly 
educated.  Though  length  of  arms  and  strength  of 
muscle  are  advantages  in  weaving,  and  though  this 
girl  was  short  and  small,  she  always  wove  the  greatest 
number  of  pieces  in  the  room,  and  consequently  drew 
the  largest  pay  at  the  end  of  every  month.  We 
might  fill  many  pages  with  similar  cases  which  have 
come  under  our  own  observation,  but  there  is  no 
occasion.  It  has  long  since  been  settled  by  the  gen- 
eral observation  of  manufacturers,  that  intelligent 
workmen  will  do  more  and  better  work  than  ignorant 
ones. 

But  the  excess  in  the  amount  of  work  performed  is 
not  the  most  important  respect  in  which  an  intelligent 
workman  is  superior  to  a  stupid  one.  He  is  far  more 
likely  to  be  faithful  to  the  interests  of  his  employer, 
to  save  from  waste  and  to  turn  to  profit  every  thing 
that  comes  to  his  hand.  There  is  also  the  exalted 
satisfaction  of  being  surrounded  by  thinking,  active 
and  inquiring  minds,  instead  of  by  ignorance. 

Such  are  some  of  the  advantages  to  the  "Captains 
of  Industry,"  which  result  from  the  employment  of 
intelligent  workmen ;  not  in  one  article,  nor  any  num- 
ber of  articles,  could  these  advantages  be  fully  set 
forth.  And  if  it  is  impossible  to  state  the  advantages 
to  the  employer,  how  vain  must  be  the  effort  to 
describe  those  which  result  to  the  workman  himself! 

The  increase  of  wages  is  the  least  and  lowest  of 
the  rich  rewards  of  mental  culture.  The  whole 


EDUCATION.  147 

being  is  enlarged  and  exalted ;  the  scope  of  view  is 
widened ;  the  objects  of  interest  are  increased ;  the 
subjects  of  thought  are  multiplied ;  life  is  more  filled 
with  emotion ;  and  the  man  is  raised  in  the  scale 
of  creation. 

To  intelligent  English  travelers,  nothing  in  the 
United  States  has  excited  so  much  wonder  and 
admiration  as  Lowell,  Nashua,  Manchester,  Law- 
rence, and  the  other  manufacturing  towns  of  New 
England.  That  factory-girls  should  play  on  the 
piano,  and  sustain  a  creditable  magazine  by  their 
own  contributions ;  that  their  residences  should  be 
clean,  commodious,  and  elegant;  that  factory-men 
should  be  intelligent  gentlemen,  well-read  in  litera- 
ture, and  totally  unacquainted  with  beer  and  its 
inspirations,  have  been,  for  many  years,  the  crowning 
marvels  of  America  to  all  travelers  of  right  feeling 
and  good  judgment. 

Daniel  Webster  says:  "Knowledge  does  not  com- 
prise all  which  is  contained  in  the  large  term  of 
education.  The  feelings  are  to  be  disciplined,  the 
passions  are  to  be  restrained ;  true  and  worthy 
motives  are  to  be  inspired ;  a  profound  religious 
feeling  is  to  be  instilled,  and  pure  morality  inculcated 
under  all  circumstances.  All  this  is  comprised  in 
education." 

Too  many  have  imbibed  the  idea  that  to  obtain  a 
sufficient  education  to  enable  a  man  to  appear  advan- 
tageously upon  the  theatre,  especially  of  public  life ; 
his  boyhood  and  youth  must  be  spent  within  the  walls 
of  some  classical  seminary  of  learning,  that  he  may 


148  EDUCATION. 

commence  his  career  under  the  high  floating  banner 
of  a  collegiate  diploma — with  them,  the  first  round 
in  the  ladder  of  fame. 

That  a  refined,  classical  education  is  desirable,  and 
one  of  the  accomplishments  of  a  man,  we  admit  — 
that  it  is  indispensably  necessary,  and  always  makes 
a  man  more  useful,  we  deny.  He  who  has  been 
incarcerated,  from  his  childhood,  up  to  his  majority, 
within  the  limited  circumference  of  his  school  and 
boarding  room,  although  he  may  have  mastered  all 
the  classics,  is  destitute  of  that  knowledge  of  men 
and  things,  indispensably  necessary  to  prepare  him 
for  action,  either  in  private  or  public  life.  Classic 
lore  and  polite  literature  are  very  different  from  that 
vast  amount  of  common  intelligence,  fit  for  every  day 
use,  that  he  must  have,  to  render  his  intercourse  with 
society  pleasing  to  himself,  or  agreeable  to  others. 
He  is  liable  to  imposition  at  every  turn  he  makes. 
He  may  have  a  large  fund  of  fine  sense,  but  if  he 
lacks  common  sense,  he  is  like  a  ship  without  a  rud- 
der. Let  boys  and  girls  be  taught,  first  and  last,  all 
that  is  necessary  to  prepare  them  for  the  common 
duties  of  life  —  if  the  classics  and  polite  literature  can 
be  worked  between  the  coarser  branches,  they  will  be 
much  safer  —  as  silk  goods  are,  enclosed  in  canvas,  or 
a  bale.,  We  wish  not  to  undervalue  high  seminaries 
of  learning  —  but  rather  to  stimulate  those  to  perse- 
vere in  the  acquirement  of  science,  who  are  deprived 
of  the  advantage  of  their  dazzling  lights.  Franklin, 
Sherman,  and  others,  emerged  from  the  work  shop, 
and  illuminated  the  world  as  brightly  as  the  most 


EDUCATION.  149 

profound  scholar  from  a  college.  In  this  enlightened 
age,  and  in  our  free  country,  all  who  will,  may  drink, 
deeply,  at  the  pure  fountain  of  science.  Ignorance  is 
a  voluntary  misfortune.  By  a  proper  improvement 
of  time,  the  apprentice  of  the  mechanic  may  lay  in  a 
stock  of  useful  knowledge,  that  will  enable  him,  when 
he  arrives  at  manhood,  to  take  a  respectable  stand  by 
the  side  of  those  who  have  grown  up  in  the  full  blaze 
of  a  collegiate  education  —  and  with  a  better  prospect 
of  success  at  the  start,  because  he  is  much  better 
stocked  with  common  information,  without  which  a 
man  is  a  poor,  helpl-ess  animal. 

Education  of  every  kind  has  two  values  —  value  as 
knowledge  and  value  as  discipline.  Besides  its  use 
for  guidance  in  conduct,  the  acquisition  of  each  order 
of  facts  has  also  its  use  as  mental  exercise ;  and  its 
effects  as  a  preparative  for  complete  living  have  to  be 
considered  under  both  these  heads. 

Education  cannot  be  acquired  without  pains  and 
application.  It  is  troublesome  and  deep  digging  for 
pure  water,  but  when  once  you  come  to  the  springs, 
they  rise  up  and  meet  you.  Every  grain  helps  fill 
the  bushel,  so  does  the  improvement  of  every  moment 
increase  knowledge. 

Says  Swedenborg:  "It  is  of  no  advantage  to  man 
to  know  much,  unless  he  lives  according  to  what  he 
knows,  for  knowledge  has  no  other  end  than  good- 
ness ;  and  he  who  is  made  good  is  in  possession  of  a 
far  richer  treasure  than  he  whose  knowledge  is  the 
most  extensive,  and  yet  is  destitute  of  goodness  ;  for, 
what  the  latter  is  seeking  by  his  great  acquirements, 
the  former  already  possesses." 


150  EDUCATION. 

One  of  the  most  agreeable  consequences  of  knowl- 
edge is  the  respect  and  importance  which  it  commu- 
nicates to  old  age.  Men  rise  in  character  often  as 
they  increase  in  years ;  they  are  venerable  from  what 
they  have  acquired  and  pleasing  from  what  they  can 
impart.  Knowledge  is  the  treasure,  but  judgment 
the  treasurer  of  a  wise  man.  Superficial  knowledge, 
pleasure  dearly  purchased,  and  subsistence  at  the  will 
of  another,  are  the  disgrace  of  mankind. 

The  chief  properties  of  wisdom  are  to  be  mindful 
of  things  past,  careful  for  things  present,  and  provi- 
dent of  things  to  come. 

He  that  thinks  himself  the  happiest  man  is  really 
so  ;  but  he  that  thinks  himself  the  wisest  is  generally 
the  greatest  fool. 

A  wise  man,  says  Seneca,  is  provided  for  occurren- 
ces of  any  kind:  the  good  he  manages,  the  bad  he 
vanquishes;  in  prosperity  he  betrays  no  presumption, 
and  in  adversity  he  feels  no  despondency. 

By  gaining  a  good  education  you  shall  have  your 
reward  in  the  rich  stores  of  knowledge  you  have  thus 
collected,  and  which  shall  ever  be  at  your  command. 
More  valuable  than  earthly  treasure  —  while  fleets 
may  sink,  and  storehouses  consume,  and  banks  may 
totter,  and  riches  flee,  the  intellectual  investments  you 
have  thus  made  will  be  permanent  and  enduring, 
unfailing  as  the  constant  flow  of  Niagara  or  Amazon 
—  a  bank  whose  dividends  are  perpetual,  whose 
wealth  is  undiminished  however  frequent  the  drafts 
upon  it ;  which,  though  moth  may  impair,  yet  thieves 
cannot  break  through  nor  steal. 


OPPORTUNITY. 


Nor  will  you  be  able  to  fill  these  storehouses  to 
their  full.  Pour  into  a  glass  a  stream  of  water,  and 
at  last  it  fills  to  the  brim  and  will  not  hold  another 
drop.  But  you  may  pour  into  your  mind,  through  a 
whole  lifetime,  streams  of  knowledge  from  every  con- 
ceivable quarter,  and  not  only  shall  it  never  be  full, 
but  it  will  constantly  thirst  for  more,  and  welcome 
each  fresh  supply  with  a  greater  joy. 

Nay,  more,  to  all  around  you  may  impart  of  these 
gladdening  streams  which  have  so  fertilized  your  own 
mind,  and  yet,  like  the  candle  from  which  a  thousand 
other  candles  may  be  lit  without  diminishing  its  flame, 
your  supply  shall  not  be  impaired.  On  the  contrary, 
your  knowledge,  as  you  add  to  it,  will  itself  attract 
still  more  as  it  widens  your  realm  of  thought  ;  and 
thus  will  you  realize  in  your  own  life  the  parable  of 
the  ten  talents,  for  "to  him  that  hath  shall  be  given." 

The  beginning  of  wisdom  is  to  fear  God,  but  the 
end  of  it  is  to  love  him.  The  highest  learning  is  to 
be  wise  ;  and  the  greatest  wisdom  is  to  be  good.  The 
wise  man  looks  forward  into  futurity,  and  considers 
what  will  be  his  condition  millions  of  ages  hence,  as 
well  as  what  it  is  at  present. 


MANY  do  with  opportunity  as  children  do  at  the 
sea-shore  ;  they  fill  their  little  hands  with  sand,  then  let 
the  grains  fall  through  one  by  one,  till  they  are  all 
gone. 


152  OPPORTUNITY. 

Four  things  come  not  back ;  the  spoken  word ;  the 
sped  arrow ;  the  past  life ;  and  the  neglected  oppor- 
tunity. Opportunity  has  hair  in  front,  behind  she  is 
bald.;  if  you  seize  her  by  the  forelock  you  may  hold 
her,  but  if  suffered  to  escape,  not  Jupiter  himself  can 
catch  her  again.  Opportunities  are  the  offers  of  God, 
Heaven  gives  us  enough  when  it  gives  us  opportu- 
nity. Great  opportunities  are  generally  the  result  of 
the  wise  improvement  of  small  ones.  Wise  men 
make  more  opportunities  than  they  find.  If  you  think 
your  opportunities  are  not  good  enough,  you  had  bet- 
ter improve  them.  Remember  you  are  responsible 
for  talents,  for  time  and  for  opportunities ;  improve 
them  as  one  that  must  give  an  account.  Make  hay 
while  the  sun  shines.  Gather  roses  while  they 
bloom. 

As  a  general  rule,  those  who  have  no  opportunities 
despise  small  ones ;  and  those  who  despise  small 
opportunities  never  get  large  ones. 

Opportunity  does  not  only  do  great  work,  but  if 
not  heeded  is  often  most  disastrous. 

A  shipmaster  once  said,  "It  was  my  lot  to  fall  in 
with  the  ill-fated  steamer,  the  '  Central  America.'  The 
night  was  closing  in,  the  sea  rolling  high ;  but  I 
hailed  the  crippled  steamer,  and  asked  if  they  needed 
help.  'I  am  in  a  sinking  condition,'  cried  Captain 
Herndon.  '  Had  you  not  better  send  your  passengers 
on  board  directly  ?'  I  said.  'Will  you  not  lay  by  me  till 
morning?'  answered  Captain  Herndon.  'I  will  try,' 
I  replied;  'but  had  you  not  better  send  your  passen- 
gers on  board  NOW  ?'  '  Lay  by  me  till  morning,'  again 


OPPORTUNITY.  153 

said  Captain  Herndon.  I  tried  to  lay  by  him ;  but  at 
night  such  was  the  heavy  roll  of  the  sea  I  could  not 
keep  my  position,  aad  I  never  saw  the  steamer 
again.  In  an  hour  and  a  half  after  the  captain  said 
'Lay  by  me  till  morning,'  the  vessel,  with  its  living 
freight,  went  down  —  the  captain  and  crew,  and  a 
great  majority  of  passengers,  found  a  grave  in  the 
deep."  There  is  so  little  time  for  over-squeamishness 
at  present  that  the  opportunity  slips  away ;  the  very 
period  of  life  at  which  a  man  chooses  to  venture,  if 
ever,  is  so  confined  that  it  is  no  bad  rule  to  preach  up 
the  neccessity,  in  such  instances,  of  a  little  violence 
done  to  the  feelings,  and  of  efforts  made  in  defiance  of 
strict  and  sober  calculation  and  not  pass  one  opportu- 
nity after  another. 

What  may  be  done  at  any  time,  will  be  done  at  no 
time.  Take  time  while  time  is,  for  time  will  away, 
say  the  English.  When  the  fool  has  made  up  his 
mind,  the  market  has  gone  by ;  Spanish.  A  little  too 
late,  much  too  late ;  Dutch.  Some  refuse  roast  meat, 
and  afterwards  long  for  the  smoke  of  it ;  Italian. 

There  is  sometimes  wanting  only  a  stroke  of  for- 
tune to  discover  numberless  latent  good  or  bad  quali- 
ties, which  would  otherwise  have  been  eternally  con- 
cealed ;  as  words  written  with  a  certain  liquor  appear 
only  when  brought  near  the  fire. 

Accident  does  very  little  toward  the  production  of 
any  great  result  in  life.  Though  sometimes  what  is 
called  a  "happy  hit"  may  be  made  by  a  bold  venture, 
the  old  and  common  highway  of  steady  industry  and 
application  is  the  only  safe  road  to  travel. 


SPARE    MOMENTS. 

It  is  not  accident  that  helps  a  man  in  the  world, 
but  purpose  and  persistent  industry.  These  make  a 
man  sharp  to  discern  opportunities,  and  turn  them  to 
account.  To  the  feeble,  the  sluggish,  and  purpose- 
less, the  happiest  opportunities  avail  nothing  —  they 
are  passed  by  and  no  meaning  is  seen  in  them. 


IF  we  are  prompt  to  seize  and  improve  even  the 
shortest  intervals  of  possible  action  and  effort,  it  is 
astonishing  how  much  can  be  accomplished.  Watt 
taught  himself  chemistry  and  mechanics  while  work- 
ing at  his  trade  of  a  mathematical  instrument  maker ; 
and  he  availed  himself  of  every  opportunity  to  extend 
his  knowledge  of  language,  literature,  and  the 
principles  of  science.  Stephenson  taught  himself 
arithmetic  and  mensuration  while  working  as  an 
engineer  during  the  night  shifts,  and  he  studied 
mechanics  during  his  spare  hours  at  home,  thus 
preparing  himself  for  the  great  work  of  his  life  —  the 
invention  of  the  railway  locomotive. 

With  perseverance,  the  very  odds  and  ends  of  time 
may  be  worked  up  into  results  of  the  greatest  value. 
An  hour  in  every  day  withdrawn  from  frivolous  pur- 
suits, would,  if  profitably  employed,  enable  any  man 
of  ordinary  capacity,  very  shortly  to  master  a  com- 
plete science.  It  would  make  an  ignorant  man  a 
well-informed  man  in  ten  years.  We  must  not  allow 


SPARE    MOMENTS.  155 

the  time  to  pass  without  yielding;  fruits,  in  the  form  of 
something  learned  worthy  of  being  known,  some 
good  principle  cultivated,  or  some  good  habit  strength- 
ened. Dr.  Mason  Good  translated  Lucretius  while 
riding  in  his  carriage  in  the  streets  of  London,  going- 
his  rounds  among  his  patients.  Dr.  Darwin  com- 
posed nearly  all  his  works  in  the  same  way,  while 
riding  about  in  his  "sulky,"  from  house  to  house  in 
the  country  —  writing  down  his  thoughts  on  little 
scraps  of  paper,  which  he  carried  about  with  him  for 
the  purpose.  Hale  wrote  his  "contemplations" 
while  traveling  on  a  circuit.  Dr.  Burney  learned 
French  and  Italian  while  traveling  on  horseback  from 
one  musical  pupil  to  another  in  the  course  of  his  pro- 
fession. Kirk  White  learned  Greek  while  walking  to 
and  from  a  lawyer's  office  ;  and  we  personally  know 
a  man  of  eminent  position  in  a  northern  manufacturing 
town,  who  learned  Latin  and  French  while  going 
messages  as  an  errand  boy  in  the  streets  of  Man- 
chester. 

Elihu  Burritt  attributed  his  first  success  in  self- 
improvement,  not  to  genius,  which  he  disclaimed,  but 
simply  to  the  careful  employment  of  those  invaluable 
fragments  of  time,  called  "odd  moments."  While 
working  and  earning  his  living  as  a  blacksmith,  he 
mastered  some  eig.hteen  ancient  and  modern  lan- 
guages, and  twenty-two  European  dialects.  Withal, 
he  was  exceedingly  modest,  and  thought  his  achieve- 
ments nothing  extraordinary.  Like  another  learned 
and  wise  man,  of  whom  it  was  said  that  he  could  be 
silent  in  ten  languages,  Elihu  Burritt  could  do  the 


156  SPARE    MOMENTS. 

same  in  forty.  "Those  who  have  been  acquainted 
with  my  character  from  my  youth  up,"  said  he,  writing 
to  a  friend,  "will  give  me  credit  for  sincerity  when  I 
say,  that  it  never  entered  into  my  head  to  blazon 
forth  any  acquisition  of  my  own.  *  *  *  All  that 
I  have  accomplished,  or  expect,  or  hope  to  accom- 
plish, has  been  and  will  be  by  that  plodding,  patient, 
persevering  process  of  accretion  which  builds  the  ant- 
heap —  particle  by  particle,  thought  by  thought,  fact 
by  fact.  And  if  ever  I  was  actuated  by  ambition,  its 
highest  and  warmest  aspirations  reached  no  further 
than,  the  hope  to  set  before  the  young  men  of  my 
country  an  example  in  employing  those  invaluable 
fragments  of  time  called  'odd  moments.'" 

Daguesseau,  one  of  the  great  chancellors  of  France, 
by  carefully  working  up  his  odd  bits  of  time,  wrote  a 
bulky  and  able  volume  in  the  successive  intervals  of 
waiting  for  dinner ;  and  Madame  de  Gentis  composed 
several  of  her  charming  volumes  while  waiting  for  the 
princess  to  whom  she  gave  her  daily  lessons.  Jeremy 
Bentham  in  like  manner  disposed  of  his  hours  of  labor 
and  repose,  so  that  not  a -moment  should  be  lost,  the 
arrangement  being  determined  on  the  principle  that  it 
is  a  calamity  to  lose  the  smallest  portion  of  time.  He 
lived  and  worked  habitually  under  the  practical  con- 
sciousness that  man's  days  are  numbered,  and  that 
the  night  cometh  when  no  man  can  work. 

What  a  solemn  and  striking  admonition  to  youth  is 
that  inscribed  on  the  dial  at  All  Souls,  Oxford,  Eng- 
land, " Periunt  et  imputantur"  the  hours  perish  and 
are  laid  to  our  charge.  For  time,  like  life,  can  never 


SPARE    MOMENTS.  157 

be  recalled.  Melanchthon  noted  down  the  time  lost 
by  him,  that  he  might  thereby  reanimate  his  industry, 
and  not  lose  an  hour.  An  Italian  sqholar  put  over 
his  door  an  inscription  intimating-  that  whosoever 
remained  there  should  join  in  his  labors.  "We  are 
afraid,"  said  some  visitors  to  Baxter,  "we  break  in 
upon  your  time."  "To  be  sure  you  do,"  replied  the 
disturbed  and  blunt  divine.  Time  was  the  estate  out 
of  which  these  great  workers,  and  all  other  workers, 
carved  a  rich  inheritance  of  thoughts  and  deeds  for 
their  successors. 

Sir  Walter  Scott  found  spare  moments  for  self-im- 
provement in  every  pursuit,  and  turned  even  accidents 
to  account.  Thus  it  was  in  the  discharge  of  his  func- 
tions as  a  writer's  apprentice  that  he  first  penetrated 
into  the  Highlands,  and  formed  those  friendships 
among  the  surviving  heroes  of  1745  which  served  to 
lay  the  foundation  for  a  large  class  of  his  works.  Later 
in  life,  when  employed  as  quartermaster  of  the  Edin- 
burgh Light  Cavalry,  he  was  accidentally  disabled  by 
the  kick  of  a  horse,  and  confined  for  some  time  to  his 
house ;  but  Scott  was  a  sworn  enemy  to  idleness,  and 
he  forthwith  set  his  mind  to  work,  and  in  three  days 
composed  the  first  canto  of  "The  Lay  of  the  Last 
Minstrel,"  his  first  great  original  work. 

Let  not,  then,  the  young  man  sit  with  folded  hands, 
calling  on  Hercules.  Thine  own  arm  is  the  demi-god. 
It  was  given  thee  to  help  thyself.  Go  forth  into  the 
world  trustful,  but  fearless.  Exalt  thine  adopted  call- 
ing or  profession.  Look  on  labor  as  honorable,  and 
dignify  the  task  before  thee,  whether  it  bs  in  the 


158  BOOKS. 

study,  office,  counting-room,  work-shop,  or  furrowed 
field.  There  is  an  equality  in  all,  and  the  resolute 
will  and  pure  heart  may  ennoble  either. 


No  MAN  has  a  right  to  bring  up  his  children  with- 
out surrounding  them  with  books.  •  It  is  a  wrong  to 
his  family.  He  cheats  them.  Children  learn  to  read 
by  being  in  the  presence  of  books.  The  love  of 
knowledge  comes  with  reading,  and  grows  upon  it. 
And  the  love  of  knowledge  in  a  young  mind  is  almost 
a  warrant  against  the  inferior  excitement  of  passions 
and  vices. 

A  little  library,  growing  larger  every  year,  is  an 
honorable  part  of  a  young  man's  history.  It  is  a 
man's  duty  to  have  books.  A  library  is  not  a  luxury, 
but  one  of  the  necessaries  of  life.  It  is  not  like  a 
dead  city  of  stones,  yearly  crumbling,  and  needing 
repair ;  but  like  a  spiritual  tree.  There  it  stands  and 
yields  its  pre'cious  fruit  from  year  to  year  and  from 
age  to  age. 

Carlyle  saw  the  influence  of  books  many  years  ago. 
"I  say,  of  all  the  priesthoods,  aristocracies  — 
governing  classes  at  present  extant  in  the  world  — 
there  is  no  class  comparable  for  importance  to  the 
priesthood  of  the  writers  of  books." 

The    art  of   writing,   and  of   printing,  whj'ch  is  a 


BOOKS.  159 

sequence  to  it,  is  really  the  most  wonderful  thing  in  the 
world.  Books  are  the  soul  of  actions,  the  only  audible, 
articulate  voice  of  the  accomplished  facts  of  the  past. 
The  men  of  antiquity  are  dead ;  their  fleets  and 
armies  have  disappeared ;  their  cities  are  ruins ;  their 
temples  are  dust ;  yet  all  these  exist  in  magic  preser- 
vation in  the  books  they  have  bequeathed  us,  and 
their  manners  and  their  deeds  are  as  familiar  to  us 
as  the  events  of  yesterday.  And  these  papers  and 
books,  the  mass  of  printed  matter  which  we  call 
literature,  are  really  the  teacher,  guide  and  law-giver 
of  the  world  to-day. 

The  influence  of  books  upon  man  is  remarkable ; 
they  make  the  man.  You  may  judge  a  man  more 
truly  by  the  books  and  papers  which  he  reads  than 
by  the  company  which  he  keeps,  for  his  associates 
are  often,  in  a  manner,  imposed  upon  him ;  but  his 
reading  is  the  result  of  choice,  and  the  man  who 
chooses  a  certain  class  of  books  and  papers  uncon- 
sciously becomes  more  colored  in  their  views,  more 
rooted  in  their  opinions,  and  the  mind  becomes  fettered 
to  their  views. 

All  the  life  and  feeling  of  a  young  girl  fascinated 
by  some  glowing  love  romance,  is  colored  and  shaped 
by  the  page  she  reads.  If  it  be  false,  and  weak,  and 
foolish,  she  will  be  false,  and  weak,  and  foolish,  too ; 
but  if  it  be  true,  and  tender,  and  inspiring,  then  some- 
thing of  its  truth,  and  tenderness,  and  inspiration  will 
grow  into  her  soul  and  become  a  part  of  her  very  self. 
The  boy  who  reads  deeds  of  manliness,  of  bravery 
and  noble  daring,  feels  the  spirit  of  emulation  grow 


160  BOOKS. 

within  him,  and  the  seed  is  planted  which  will  bring- 
forth  fruit  of  heroic  endeavor  and  exalted  life. 

A  good  book  is  the  most  appropriate  gift  that 
friendship  can  make.  It  never  changes,  it  nevef 
grows  unfashionable  or  old.  It  is  soured  by  no  neg- 
lect, is  jealous  of  no  rival ;  but  always  its  clean,  clear 
pages  are  ready  to  amuse,  interest  and  instruct.  The 
voice  that  speaks  the  thought  may  change  or  grow 
still  forever,  the  heart  that  prompted  the  kindly  and 
cheering  word  may  grow  cold  and  forgetful ;  but  the 
page  that  mirrors  it  is  changeless,  faithful,  immortal. 
The  Book  that  records  the  incarnation  of  divine  love, 
is  God's  best  gift  to  man,  and  the  books  which  are 
filled  with  kindly  thought  and  generous  sympathy, 
are  the  best  gifts  of  friend  to  friend. 

Every  family  ought  to  be  well  supplied  with  a  choice 
supply  of  books  for  reading.  This  may  be  seen  from 
the  consequences  of  its  neglect  and  abuse  on  the  one 
hand,  and  from  its  value  and  importance  on  the  other. 
Parents  should  furnish  their  children  the  necessary 
means,  opportunities  and  direction  of  a  Christian 
education.  Give  them  proper  books.  "Without 
books,"  says  the  quaint  Bartholin,  "God  is  silent, 
justice  dormant,  science  at  a  stand,  philosophy  lame, 
letters  dumb,  and  all  things  involved  in  Cimmerian 
darkness."  Bring  them  up  to  the  habit  of  properly 
reading  and  studying  these  books.  "A  reading  peo- 
ple will  soon  become  a  thinking  people,  and  a  think- 
ing people  must  soon  become  a  great  people." 
Every  book  you  furnish  your  child,  and  which  it 
reads  with  reflection,  is  "like  a  cast  of  the  weaver's 


BOOKS.  161 

shuttle,  adding  another  thread  to  the  indestructible 
•web  of  existence."  It  will  be  worth  more  to  him 
than  all  your  hoarded  gold  and  silver. 

Dear  reader,  be  independent  and  make  up  your 
mind  what  it  is  best  for  you  to  read,  and  read  it. 
Master  a  few  good  books.  Life  is  short  and  books  are 
many.  Instead  of  having  your  mind  a  garret  crowded 
with  rubbish,  make  it  a  parlor  with  rich  furniture, 
beautifully  arranged,  in  which  you  would  not  be 
ashamed  to  have  the  whole  world  enter.  "Readers," 
says  Addison,  "who  are  in  the  flower  of  their  youth 
should  labor  at  those  accomplishments  which  may 
set  off  their  persons  when  their  bloom  is  gone,  and 
to  lay  in  timely  provisions  for  manhood  and  old  age." 
Says  Dr.  Watts:  "A  line  of  the  golden  verses  of 
the  Pythagoreans  recurring  in  the  memory  hath  often 
tempted  youth  to  frown  on  temptation  to  vice."  No 
less  worthy  is  the  following:  "There  are  many 
silver  books,  and  a  few  golden  books ;  but  I  have 
one  book  worth  more  than  all,  called  the  Bible,  and 
that  is  a  book  of  bank  notes."  The  parent  who  lives 
for  his  children's  souls  will  often  consider  what  other 
books  are  most  likely  to  prepare  his  little  ones  for 
prizing  aright  that  Book  of  Books,  and  make  that 
object  the  pole  star  of  his  endeavors. 

Every  book  has  a  moral  expression,  though  as  in 
the  human  face,  it  may  not  be  easy  to  say  what  it 
consists  in.  We  may  take  up  some  exquisite  poem  or 
story,  with  no  distinctly  religious  bearing,  and  feel 
that  it  is  religious,  because  it  strikes  a  chord  so  deep 
in  human  nature  that  we  feel  that  it  is  only  the  divine 

N  II 


BOOKS. 

nature,  "God  who  encompasses,"  that  can  respond  to 
what  it  calls  forth.  When  we  feel  the  inspiring  influ- 
ence of  books,  when  we  are  lifted  on  the  wings  of 
ancient  genius,  we  should  jealously  avoid  the  perver- 
sion of  the  gift.  The  children  of  this  world  have 
their  research  and  accomplishment,  and  enough  is 
done  for  pleasure  and  fame ;  but  the  Christian  scholar 
will  rebuke  himself,  unless  he  find  it  in  his  heart  to  be 
more  alive  in  devotion  to-  heavenly  things,  at  the  very 
moment  when  he  has  breathed  the  aroma  of  poetry 
and  eloquence.  Some  books  are  to  be  tasted,  others 
to  be  swallowed,  and  some  few  to  be  chewed  and 
digested:  that  is,  some  books  are  to  be  read  only  in 
parts;  others  to  be  read,  but  not  curiously ;  and  some 
few  to  be  read  wholly,  and  with  diligence  and  atten- 
tion. Some  books  also  may  be  read  by  deputy,  and 
extracts  made  of  them  by  others;  but  that  would  be 
only  in  the  less  important  arguments,  and  the  meaner 
sort  of  books;  else  distilled  books  are,  like  common 
distilled  waters,  flashy  things. 

"  Not  to  know  what  was  before  you  were,"  as  has 
been  truly  said,  "  is  to  be  always  a  child/'  And  it 
is  equally  true  that  he  never  becomes  a  complete 
man,  who  learns  nothing  of  the  former  days,  from 
reading.  "  Books,"  says  a  good  writer,  "  are  the 
crystalline  founts,  which  hold  in  eternal  ice  the  imper- 
ishable gems  of  the  past." 

Good  books  are  invaluable  as  a  moral  guard  to  a 
young  man.  The  culture  of  a  taste  for  such  reading, 
keeps  one  quiety  at  home,  and  prevents  a  thirst  for 
exciting  recreations  and  debasing  pleasure.  It  makes 


BOOKS.  163 

him  scorn  whatever  is  low,  coarse,  and  vulgar.  It  pre- 
vents that  weary  and  restless  temper  which  drives  so 
many  to  the  saloon,  if  not  the  gambling  table,  to  while 
away  their  leisure  hours.  Once  form  the  habit  of 
domestic  reading,  and  you  will,  at  any  time,  prefer  an 
interesting  book,  to  frequenting  the  haunts  of  vice. 

Chief  among  the  educational  influences  of  a  house- 
hold are  its  books.  Therefore,  good  sir  or  madam, 
wherever  you  economize,  do  not  cut  off  the  supply  of 
good  literature.  Have  the  best  books,  the  best 
papers,  and  the  best  magazines,  though  you  turn 
your  old  black  silk  once  more,  and  make  the  old  coat 
do  duty  another  season.  Nothing  will  compensate 
to  your  boys  and  girls  for  the  absence  of  those  quiet, 
kindly  teachers,  who  keep  such  order  in  their  schools, 
and  whose  invaluable  friendship  never  cools  or  suffers 
change.  You  may  go  without  pies  and  cake,  or 
without  butter  on  your  bread,  but,  if  you  care  for 
your  family's  best  happiness  and  progress,  you  will 
not  go  without  the  best  of  books,  such  as  Shakspeare 
and  the  best  authors  of  the  day. 

In  books  we  live  continually  in  the  decisive  moments 
of  history,  and  in  the  deepest  experience  of  individual 
lives.  The  flowers  which  we  cull  painfully  and  at 
long  intervals  in  our  personal  history,  blossom  in 
profusion  here,  and  the  air  is  full  of  a  fragrance  which 
touches  our  own  life  only  in  the  infrequent  springs. 
In  our  libraries  we  meet  great  men  on  a  familiar  foot- 
ing, and  are  at  ease  with  them.  We  come  to  know 
them  better,  perhaps,  than  those  who  bear  their 
names  and  sit  at  their  tables.  The  reserve  that  makes 


164 


BOOKS. 


so  many  fine  natures  difficult  of  access  is  entirely  lost. 
No  crudeness  of  manner,  no  poverty  of  speech  or 
unfortunate  personal  peculiarity,  mars  the  intercourse 
of  author  and  reader.  It  is  a  relation  in  which  the 
interchange  of  thought  is  undisturbed  by  outward 
conditions.  We  lose  our  narrow  selves  in  the  broader 
life  that  is  opened  to  us.  We  forget  the  hindrances 
and  limitations  of  our  own  work  in  the  full  compre- 
hension of  that  stronger  life  that  cannot  be  bound 
nor  confined,  but  grows  in  all  soils  and  climbs  heav- 
enward under  every  sky.  It  is  the  privilege  of 
greatness  to  understand  life  in  its  height  and  depth. 
Hazlitt  has  told  us  of  his  first  interview  with  Cole- 
ridge, and  of  the  moonlight  walk  homeward,  when 
the  eloquent  lips  of  the  great  conversationalist  awoke 
the  slumbering  genius  within  him,  and  made  the  old 
familiar  world  strange  and  wonderful  under  a  sky  that 
seemed  full  of  new  stars.  Such  intercourse  with 
gifted  men  is  the  privilege  of  few ;  but  in  the  seclu- 
sion of  the  library  there  often  grows  up  an  acquaint- 
ance more  thorough  and  inspiring.  Books  are  rich, 
not  only  in  thought  and  sentiment,  but  in  character. 
Where  shall  we  find  in  any  capitals  such  majesty  as 
"doth  hedge  about"  the  kings  of  Shakspeare,  or 
such  brave  and  accomplished  gentlemen  as  adorn  his 
courts  and  measure  wit  and  courtesy  with  the  fair  and 
graceful  women  of  his  fancy? 

The  best  society  in  the  world  is  that  which  lives  in 
books.  No  taint  of  vulgarity  attaches  to  it,  no  petty 
strife  for  place  and  power  disturbs  its  harmony,  no 
falsehood  stains  its  perfect  truth  ;  and  those  who  move 


READING.  1(35 

habitually  in  these  associations  find  a  strength  which 
is  the  more  controlling-  because  molded  by  genius  into 
forms  of  grace  and  refinement. 

There  is  a  certain  monotony  in  daily  life,  and  those 
whose  aims  are  high,  but  who  lack  the  inherent 
strength  to  stand  true  to  them  amid  adverse  influ- 
ences, gradually  drop  out  of  the  ever-thinning  ranks 
of  the  aspiring.  They  are  conquered  by  routine,  and 
disheartened  by  the  discipline  and  labor  that  guard 
the  prizes  of  life.  Even  to  the  strongest  there  are 
hours  of  weakness  and  weariness.  To  the  weak,  and 
to  the  strong  in  their  times  of  weakness,  books  are 
inspiring  friends  and  teachers.  Against  the  feeble- 
ness of  individual  efforts  they  proclaim  the  victory  of 
faith  and  patience,  and  out  of  the  uncertainty  and 
diseouragement  of  one  day's  work  they  prophesy  the 
fuller  and  richer  life,  that  grows  strong  and  deep 
through  conflict,  sets  itself  more  and  more  in  har- 
mony with  the  noblest  aims,  and  is  at  last  crowned 
with  honor  and  power. 


— Ha- 


THERE  are  four  classes  of  readers.  The  first  is  like 
the  hour-glass ;  and  its  reading  being  on  the  sand,  it 
runs  in  and  runs  out  and  leaves  no  vestige  behind. 
A  second  is  like  a  sponge,  which  imbibes  everything, 
and  returns  it  in  the  same  state,  only  a  little  dirtier. 
A  third  is  like  a  jelly  bag,  allowing  all  that  is  pure  to 


1(36  READING. 

pass  away,  and  retaining  only  the  refuse  and  dregs. 
The  fourth  is  like  the  slaves  in  the  diamond  minds  of 
Golconda,  who,  casting  aside  all  that  is  worthless, 
obtain  only  pure  gems. 

One's  reading  is,  usually,  a  fair  index  of  his  char- 
acter. Observe  in  almost  any  house  you  visit,  the 
books  which  lie  customarily  on  the  centre-table ;  or 
note  what  are  taken  by  preference  from  the  public  or 
circulating  library;  and  you  may  judge,  in  no  small 
degree,  not  only  the  intellectual  tastes  and  the  gen- 
eral intelligence  of  the  family,  but  also  —  and  what  is 
of  far  deeper  moment — you  may  pronounce  on  the 
moral  attainments  and  the  spiritual  advancement  of 
most  of  the  household.  "A  man  is  known,"  it  is 
said,  "by  the  company  he  keeps."  It  is  equally  true 
that  a  man's  character  may  be,  to  a  great  extent, 
ascertained  by  knowing  what  books  he  reads. 

The  tempation  to  corrupt  reading  is  usually  strong-, 
est  at  the  period  when  the  education  of  the  school- 
room is  about  closing.  The  test  of  the  final  utility, 
however,  is  the  time  when  our  youth  leave  these 
schools.  If  the  mind  be  now  awakened  to  a  manly 
independence,  and  start  on  a  course  of  vigorous  self- 
culture,  all  will  be  well.  But  if,  on  the  other  hand, 
it  sink  into  a  state  of  inaction,  indifferent  to  its  own 
needs,  and  to  all  the  highest  ends  and  aims  of  life, 
then  woe  to  the  man.  For  few,  very  few,  ever  rouse 
themselves  in  mid-life  to  a  new  intellectual  taste,  an-d 
to  .an  untried  application  of  their  time  and  powers 
to  that  culture  for  which  the  Creator  formed  and 
endowed  them. 


READING.  167 

To  read  books  which  present  false  pictures  of 
human  life  is  decidedly  dangerous,  and  we  would  say 
stand  aloof!  Life  is  neither  a  tragedy  nor  a  farce. 
Men  are  not  all  either  knaves  or  heroes.  Women 
are  neither  angels  nor  furies.  And  yet,  if  you  de- 
pended upon  much  of  the  literature  of  the  day,  you 
would  get  the  idea  that  life,  instead  of  being  some- 
thing earnest,  something  practical,  is  a  fitful  and  fan- 
tastic and  extravagant  thing.  How  poorly  prepared 
are  that  young  man  and  that  young  woman  for  the 
duties  of  to-day  who  spent  last  night  wading  through 
brilliant  passages  descriptive  of  magnificent  knavery 
and  wickedness !  The  man  will  be  looking  all  day 
long  for  his  heroine  in  the  tin  shop,  by  the  forge,  in 
the  factory,  in  the  counting-room,  and  he  will  not 
find  her,  and  he  will  be  dissatisfied.  A  man  who 
gives  himself  up  to  the  indiscriminate  reading  of 
novels  will  be  nerveless,  inane,  and  a  nuisance.  He 
will  be  fit  neither  for  the  store,  nor  the  shop,  nor  the 
field.  A  woman  who  gives  herself  up  to  the  indis- 
criminate reading  of  novels  will  be  unfitted  for  the 
duties  of  wife,  mother,  sister,  daughter.  There  she 
is,  hair  disheveled,  countenance  vacant,  cheeks  pale, 
hands  trembling,  bursting  into  tears  at  midnight  over 
the  fate  of  some  unfortunate  lover ;  in  the  day-time, 
when  she  ought  to  be  busy,  staring  by  the  half  hour 
at  nothing ;  biting  her  finger-nails  to  the  quick.  The 
carpet  that  was  plain  before,  will  be  plainer,  after 
having,  through  a  romance  all  night  long,  wandered  in 
tessellated  halls  of  castles.  And  your  industrious 
companion  will  be  more  unattractive  than  ever,  now 


103  READING. 

that  you  have  walked  in  the  romance  through  parks 
with  plumed  princesses,  or  lounged  in  the  arbor  with 
the  polished  desperado. 

Abstain  from  all  those  books  which,  while  t-hey 
have  some  good  things  about  them,  have  also  an 
admixture  of  evil.  You  have  read  books  that  had 
the  two  elements  in  them  —  the  good  and  the  bad. 
Which  stuck  to  you  ?  The  bad  !  The  heart  of  most 
people  is  like  a  sieve,  which  lets  the  small  particles  of 
gold  fall  through,  but  keeps  the  great  cinders.  Once 
in  a  while  there  is  a  mind  like  a  loadstone,  which, 
plunged  amid  steel  and  brass  filings,  gathers  up  the 
steel  and  repels  the  brass.  But  it  is  generally  just 
the  opposite.  If  you  attempt  to  plunge  through  a 
hedge  of  burrs  to  get  one  blackberry,  you  will  get 
more  burrs  than  blackberries.  You  cannot  afford  to 
read  a  bad  book,  however  good  you  are.  You  say, 
"The  influence  is  insignificant."  I  tell  you  that  the 
scratch  of  a  pin  has  sometimes  produced  the  lockjaw. 
Alas,  if  through  curiosity,  as  many  do,  you  pry  into 
an  evil  book,  your  curiosity  is  as  dangerous  as  that  of 
the  man  who  should  take  a  torch  into  a  gunpowder 
mill  merely  to  see  whether  it  really  would  blow  up 
or  not. 

Inferior  books  are  to  be  rejected,  in  an  age  and 
time  whem  we  are, courted  by  whole  libraries,  and 
when  no  man's  life  is  long  enough  to  compass  even 
those  which  are  good  and  great  and  famous.  Why 
should  we  bow  down  at  puddles,  when  we  can  ap- 
proach freely  to  the  crystal  spring-heads  of  science 
and  letters?  Half  the  reading  of  most  people  is 


READING.  169 

snatched  up  at  random.  Many  stupefy  themselves 
over  the  dullness  of  authors  who  ought  never  to  have 
escaped  oblivion.  The  invention  of  paper  and  print- 
ing—  especially  the  production  of  both  by  a  new 
motive  power  —  may  be  said  to  have  overdone  the 
matter,  and  made  it  too  easy  to  be  born  into  the 
world  of  authorship.  The  race  would  be  benefited 
by  some  new  invention  for  strangling  nine  out  of  ten 
who  sue  for  publicity.  No  man  can  do  his  friend  or 
child  a  more  real  service  than  to  snatch  from  his  hand 
the  book  that  relaxes  and  effeminates  him,  lest  he 
destroy  the  solids  and  make  his  fibre  flaccid  by  the  slops 
and  hashes  of  a  catch-penny  press.  But  especially 
is  he  a  benefactor  who  instills  the  principle  that  no 
composition  should  be  deliberately  sought  which  is 
not  good,  beneficial,  and  above  mediocrity. 

To  those  who  plead  the  want  of  time  to  read,  we 
would  say,  be  as  frugal  of  your  hours  as  you  are  of 
your  dollars,  and  you  can  create  time  in  the  busiest 
day.  Horace  Greeley,  the  editor  of  a  newspaper 
which  reached  what  was  then  an  almost  incredible 
circulation,  tells  us,  that  when  a  boy,  he  would  "go 
reading,  to  the  wood-pile ;  reading,  to  the  garden ; 
reading,  to  the  neighbors."  His  father  was  poor,  and 
needed  his  services  through  the  day ;  and  it  was  a 
mighty  struggle  with  him  to  get  Horace  to  bed.  "I 
would  take  a  pine  knot,"  he  says,  "put  it  on  the  back- 
log, pile  my  books  around  me,  and  lie  down  and  read 
all  through  the  long  winter  evenings ;  silent,  motion- 
less, and  dead  to  the  world  around  me,  alive  only  to 
the  world  to  which  I  was  transported  by  my  book." 


170 


READING. 


In  this  country  talent  has  a  fair  field  to  rise  by  culture 
from  the  humblest  walks  of  life,  and  to  attain  the 
highest  distinction  of  which  it  is  capable.  "Why," 
inquired  a  bystander  of  a  certain  carpenter,  who  was 
bestowing  great  labor  in  planing  and  smoothing  a 
seat  for  the  bench  in  a  court-room,  "why  do  you 
spend  so  much  time  on  that  seat?"  "I  do  it,"  was 
the  reply,  "to  make  it  easy  for  myself."  And  he  kept 
his  word  •  ror,  by  industry,  perseverance,  and  self- 
education,  he  rose,  step  by  step,  until  he  actually  did 
afterwards  sit  as  judge  on  that  very  bench  he  had 
planed  as  a  carpenter. 

Consider  that  what  we  carry  to  a  book  is  always 
quite  as  important  as  what  we  receive  from  it.  We 
may  strike  the  keys  of  the  best  instrument,  from  ear- 
liest morn  till  latest  night,  but  unless  there  be  music 
in  our  soul,  it  can  produce  no  harmony  for  us.  While, 
to  an  earnest,  inquiring,  self-poised  mind,  "a  good 
book  is  the  plectrum  by  which  our  else  silent  lyres 
are  struck."  Master  your  reading,  and  let  it  never 
master  you.  Then  it  will  serve  you  with  an  ever- 
increasing  fidelity.  Only  read  books  aright,  and  they 
will  charge  your  mind  with  the  true  electric  fire.  Take 
them  up  as  among  your  best  friends ;  and  every 
volume  you  peruse  will  join  the  great  company  of 
joyous  servitors  who  will  wait  around  your  immortal 
intellect.  Then,  too,  your  daily  character  will  bear 
the  signatures  of  the  great  minds  you  commune  with 
in  secret.  And,  as  the  years  pass  on,  you  will  walk 
in  the  light  of  an  ever-enlarging  multitude  of  well- 
chosen,  silent,  but  never-erring  guides. 


READING. 


To  read  with  profit,  the  books  must  be  of  a  kind 
calculated  to  inform  the  mind,  correct  the  head,  and 
better  the  heart.  These  books  should  be  read  with 
attention,  understood,  remembered,  and  their  pre- 
cepts put  in  practice.  It  depends  less  on  number 
than  quality.  One  good  book,  well  understood  and 
remembered,  is  of  more  use  than  to  have  a  superficial 
knowledge  of  fifty,  equally  sound.  Books  of  the  right 
character  produce  reflection,  and  induce  investigation. 
They  are  a  mirror  of  mind,  for  mind  to  look  in.  Of 
all  the  books  ever  written,  no  one  contains  so  instruct- 
ive, so  sublime,  and  so  great  a  variety  as  the  Bible. 
Resolve  to  read  three  chapters  each  day,  for  one 
year,  and  you  will  find  realities  there,  more  won- 
derful than  any  pictures  of  fiction  that  have  been 
drawn  by  the  pencilings  of  the  most  practiced  novel 
writer  in  the  dazzling  galaxy  of  ancient  or  modern 
literature. 

The  advice  in  regard  to  reading  only  the  best 
selected  works  leads  us  to  say,  read  slowly.  We 
sometimes  rush  over  pages  of  valuable  matter,  because, 
at  a  glance,  they  seem  to  be  dull  ;  and  we  leap  along 
to  see  how  the  story,  if  it  be  a  story,  is  to  end.  We 
do  every  thing  in  this  age  in  a  hurry;  we  demand 
not  only  fast  horses,  but  fast  writers,  fast  preachers, 
and  fast  lecturers.  Said  a  noted  seaman's  preacher 
in  one  of  our  large  cities,  "I  work  in  a  hurry,  I  sleep 
in  a  hurry,  and,  if  I  ever  die,  I  expect  to  die  in  a 
hurry.'*  This  is  the  history  of  much  of  the  present 
reading. 

No  one  can  too  highly  appreciate  the  magic  power 


{72  READING. 

of  the  press,  or  too  deeply  deprecate  its  abuses. 
Newspapers  have  become  the  great  highway  of  that 
intelligence  which  exerts  a  controlling  power  over  our 
nation,  catering  the  every-day  food  of  the  mind. 
Show  us  an  intelligent  family  of  boys  and  girls,  and 
we  will  show  you  a  family  where  newspapers  and 
periodicals  are  plenty.  Nobody  who  has  been  with- 
out these  private  tutors  can  know  their  educating 
power  for  good  or  evil.  Have  you  ever  thought  of 
the  innumerable  topics  of  discussion  which  they  sug- 
gest at  the  breakfast  table ;  the  important  public 
measures  with  which  thus  early  our  children  become 
acquainted ;  the  great  philanthropic  questions  of  the 
day,  to  which,  unconsciously,  their  attention  is  awak- 
ened, and  the  general  spirit  of  intelligence  which  is 
evoked  by  these  quiet  visitors  ?  Anything  that  makes 
home  pleasant,  cheerful  and  chatty,  thins  the  haunts 
of  vice  and  the  thousand  and  one  avenues  of  tempta- 
tion, should  certainly  be  regarded,  when  we  consider 
its  influence  on  the  minds  of  the  young,  as  a  great 
social  and  moral  light. 

A  child  beginning  to  read  becomes  delighted  with 
a  newspaper,  because  he  reads  of  names  and  things 
which  are  familiar,  and  he  will  progress  accordingly. 
A  newspaper,  in  one  year  is  worth  a  quarter's  school 
ing  to  a  child.     Every  father  must  consider  that  infor 
mation  is  connected  with  advancement.     The  mothei 
of  a  family,  being  one  of  its  heads,  and  having  a  more 
immediate  charge  of  children,  should  herself  be  in- 
structed.    A  mind  occupied  becomes  fortified  against 
the  ills  of  life,  and  is  braced  for  emergency.     Children 


READING.  173 

amused  by  reading  or  study  are  of  course  more  con- 
siderate and  easily  governed. 

How  many  thoughtless  young  men  have  spent 
their  earnings  in  a  tavern  or  grog  shop  who  ought 
to  have  been  reading  !  How  many  parents  who  have 
not  spent  twenty  dollars  for  books  for  their  families, 
would  have  given  thousands  to  reclaim  a  son  or 
daughter  who  had  ignorantly  or  thoughtlessly  fallen 
into  temptation ! 

Take  away  the  press,  and  the  vast  educating  power 
of  the  school  and  the  college  would  soon  come  to  an 
end.  Or,  look  one  moment  at  the  immense  influence 
a  single  writer  has  had  upon  an  age,  or  upon  the 
world  —  Shakspeare  in  creating  the  drama,  or  Bacon 
and  Descartes  in  founding  different  systems  of  phi- 
losophy. Who  may  estimate  the  influence  of  Charles 
Dickens  upon  society,  when  by  the  magic  of  his  pen 
he  touched  the  under  world  of  poverty  and  want  and 
sin,  over  which  the  rich  and  the  gay  glided  on,  not 
knowing  or  thinking  what  was  beneath  their  feet,  and 
marched  all  this  ghastly  array  of  ragged  and  hungry 
children  and  sorrowful  women  and  discouraged  men, 
and  the  famished  forms  from  the  poor-house,  and  the 
ugly  visage  of  the  criminal,  into  the  parlors  of  wealth 
and  culture,  and  there  had  them  tell  the  story  of 
their  woes  and  their  suffering?  Or  who  can  tell  the 
influence  of  a  MacDonald,  or  a  Beecher,  or  an  Eg- 
gleston  in  entering  the  wide  realm  of  romance  and 
compelling  it  to  serve  truth,  humanity  and  religion  ? 
Or  who  knows  the  influence  of  Thomas  Paine  and 
Jefferson  in  strengthening  the  cause  of  liberty  in  our 


174 


PERSEVERANCE. 


struggle  for  national  independence  ?  Take  one  singl& 
writer  of  our  own  land  —  Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe. 
The  single  tale  of  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  stirred  the 
heart  of  this  vast  nation  to  its  profoundest  depths. 
At  the  simple  moving  of  her  pen  millions  of  swords 
and  bayonets  gleamed  and  flashed  in  the  air,  and 
vast  armies  met  in  deadly  array  and  fought  face  to 
face,  till  liberty,  re-baptized  in  blood,  was  given  to 
man  as  man.  This  vast  world  moves  along  lines  of 
thought  and  sentiment  and  principle,  made  eloquent 
by  the  clangor  of  the  printing-press 


"  CONTINUAL  dropping  wears  a  stone."  So  perse- 
vering labor  gains  our  objects.  Perseverance  is  the 
virtue  wanted,  a  lion-hearted  purpose  of  victory.  It 
is  this  that  builds,  constructs,  accomplishes  whatever 
is  great,  good,  and  valuable. 

Perseverance  built  the  pyramids  on  Egypt's  plains, 
erected  the  gorgeous  temple  at  Jerusalem,  reared  the 
seven-hilled  city,  inclosed  in  adamant  the  Chinese 
empire,  scaled  the  stormy,  cloud-capped  Alps,  opened 
a  highway  through  the  watery  wilderness  of  the 
Atlantic,  leveled  the  the  forests  of  a  new  world,  and 
reared  in  its  stead  a  community  of  states  and  nations. 
It  has  wrought  from  the  marble  block  the  exquisite 
creations  of  genius,  painted  on  the  canvas  the  gor- 


PERSEVERANCE. 


geous  mimicry  of  nature,  and  engraved  on  the  metallic 
surface  the  viewless  substance  of  the  shadow.  It  has 
put  in  motion  millions  of  spindles,  winged  as  many 
flying  shuttles,  harnessed  a  thousand  iron  steeds  to 
as  many  freighted  cars,  and  set  them  flying  from  town 
to  town  and  nation  to  nation,  tunneled  mountains  of 
granite,  and  annihilated  space  with  the  lightning's 
speed.  It  has  whitened  the  waters  of  the  world  with 
the  sails  of  a  hundred  nations,  navigated  every  sea 
and  explored  every  land.  It  has  reduced  nature  in 
her  thousand  forms  to  as  many  sciences,  taught  her 
laws,  prophesied  her  future  movements,  measured 
her  untrodden  spaces,  counted  her  myriad  hosts  of 
worlds,  and  computed  their  distances,  dimensions, 
and  velocities. 

But  greater  still  are  the  works  of  perseverance  in 
the  world  of  mind.  What  are  the  productions  of 
science  and  art  compared  with  the  splendid  achieve- 
ments won  in  the  human  soul  ?  What  is  a  monument 
of  constructive  genius,  compared  with  the  living 
domes  of  thought,  the  sparkling  temples  of  virtue,  and 
the  rich,  glory-wreathed  sanctuaries  of  religion,  which 
perseverance  has  wrought  out  and  reared  in  the  souls 
of  tne  good  ?  What  are  the  toil-sweated  produc- 
tions of  wealth  piled  in  vast  profusion  around  a 
Girard,  or  a  Rothschild,  when  weighed  against  the 
stores  of  wisdom,  the  treasures  of  knowledge,  and 
the  strength,  beauty  and  glory  with  which  this 
victorious  virtue,  has  enriched  and  adorned  a  great 
multitude  of  minds  during  the  march  of  a  hundred 
generations?  How  little  can  we  tell,  how  little  know, 


PERSEVERANCE. 

the  brain-sweat,  the  heart-labor,  the  conscience-strug- 
gles which  it  cost  to  make  a  Newton,  a  Howard,  or  a 
Channing;  how  many  days  of  toil,  how  many  nights 
of  weariness,  how  many  months  and  years  of  vigilant, 
powerful  effort,  was  spent  to  perfect  in  them  what 
the  world  has  bowed  to  in  reverence  !  Their  words 
have  a  power,  their  names  a  charm,  and  their  deeds 
a  glory.  How  came  this  wealth  of  soul  to  be  theirs  ? 
Why  are  their  names  watchwords  of  power  set  high 
on  the  temple  of  fame?  Why  does  childhood  lisp 
them  in  reverence,  and  age  feel  a  thrill  of  pleasure 
when  they  are  mentioned? 

They  were  the  sons  of  perseverance  —  of  unremit- 
ting industry  and  toil.  They  were  once  as  weak  and 
helpless  as  any  of  us  —  once  as 'destitute  of  wisdom, 
virtue  and  power  as  any  infant.  Once,  the  very 
alphabet  of  that  language  which  they  have  wielded 
with  such  magic  effect,  was  unknown  to  them.  They 
toiled  long  to  learn  it,  to  get  its  sounds,  understand 
its  dependencies,  and  longer  still  to  obtain  the  secret 
of  its  highest  charm  and  mightiest  power,  and  yet 
even  longer  for  those  living,  glorious  thoughts  which 
they  bade  it  bear  to  an  astonished  and  admiring  world. 
Their  characters,  which  are  now  given  to  the  world, 
and  will  be  to  millions  yet  unborn  as  patterns  of  great- 
ness and  goodness,  were  made  by  that  untiring  per- 
severance which  marked  their  whole  lives.  From 
childhood  to  age  they  knew  no  such  word  as  fail. 
Defeat  only  gave  them  power ;  difficulty  only  taught 
them  the  necessity  of  redoubled  exertions ;  dangers 
gave  them  courage ;  the  sight  of  great  labors  inspired 


PERSEVERANCE.  177 

in  them  corresponding  exertions.  So  it  has  been 
with  all  men  and  all  women  who  have  been  eminently 
successful  in  any  profession  or  calling  in  life.  Their 
success  has  been  wrought  out  by  persevering  indus- 
try. Successful  men  owe  more  to  their  perseverance 
than  to  their  natural  powers,  their  friends,  or  the 
favorable  circumstances  around  them.  Genius  will 
falter  by  the  side  of  labor,  great  powers  will  yield  to 
great  industry.  Talent  is  desirable,  but  perseverance 
is  more  so.  It  will  make  mental  powers,  or,  at  least, 
it  will  strengthen  those  already  made.  Yes,  it  will 
make  mental  power.  The  most  available  and  suc- 
cessful kind  of  mental  power  is  that  made  by  the  hand 
of  cultivation. 

It  will  also  make  friends.  Who  will  not  befriend 
the  persevering,  energetic  youth,  the  fearless  man  of 
industry  ?  Who  is  not  a  friend  to  him  who  is  a  friend 
to  himself?  He  who  perseveres  in  business,  and 
hardships,  and  discouragements,  will  always  find 
ready  and  generous  friends  in  every  time  of  need. 
He  who  perseveres  in  a  course  of  wisdom,  rectitude, 
and  benevolence,  is  sure  to  gather  around  him  friends 
who  will  be  true  and  faithful.  Honest  industry  will 
procure  friends  in  any  community  and  any  part  of  the 
civilized  world.  Go  to  the  men  of  business,  of  worth, 
of  influence,  and  ask  them  who  shall  have  their  con- 
fidence and  support.  They  will  tell  you,  the  men  who 
falter  not  by  the  wayside,  who  toil  on  in  their  callings 
against  every  barrier,  whose  eye  is  bent  upward,  and 
whose  motto  is  "Excelsior."  These  are  the  men  to 
whom  they  give  their  confidence.  But  they  shun  the 
12 


178 


PERSEVERANCE. 


lazy,  the  indolent,  the  fearful,  and  faltering.  They 
would  as  soon  trust  the  wind  as  such  men.  If  you 
would  win  friends,  be  steady  and  true  to  yourself;  be 
the  unfailing  friend  of  your  own  purposes,  stand  by 
your  own  character,  and  others  will  come  to  your  aid. 
Though  the  earth  quake  and  the  heavens  gather 
blackness,  be  true  to  your  course  and  yourself. 
Quail  not,  nor  doubt  of  the  result;  victory  will  be 
yours.  Friends  will  come.  A  thousand  arms  of 
strength  will  be  bared  to  sustain  you. 

First,  be  sure  that  your  trade,  your  profession,  your 
calling  in  life  is  a  good  one  —  one  that  God  and  good- 
ness sanctions ;  ,  then  be  true  as  steel  to  it.  Think  for 
it,  plan  for  it,  work  for  it,  live  for  it ;  throw  in  your 
mind,  might,  strength,  heart,  and  soul  into  your  actions 
for  it,  and  success  will  crown  you  her  favored  child. 
No  matter  whether  your  object  be  great  or  small, 
whether  it  be  the  planting  of  a  nation  or  a  patch  of 
potatoes,  the  same  perseverance  is  necessary.  Every 
body  admires  an  iron  determination,  and  comes  to  the 
aid  of  him  who  directs  it  to  good. 

But  perseverance  will  not  only  make  friends,  but  it 
will  make  favorable  circumstances.  It  will  change 
the  face  of  all  things  around  us;  It  is  silly  and  cow- 
ardly to  complain  of  the  circumstances  that  are  against 
us.  Clouds  of  darkness,  evil  forebodings,  opposition, 
enemies,  barriers  of  every  kind,  will  vanish  before  a 
stout  heart  and  resolute  energy  of  soul.  The  Alps 
stood  between  Napoleon  and  Italy,  which  he  desired 
to  conquer.  He  scaled  the  mountain  and  descended 
upon  his  prey.  His  startling  descent  more  than  half 


PERSEVERANCE.  179 

- 

conquered  the  country.  He  forced  every  circum- 
stance into  his  favor.  His  greatest  barrier  proved  a 
sure  means  of  victory.  A  conquered  enemy  is  often 
the  readiest  slave.  So  a  barrier  once  scaled  affords 
a  vantage-ground  for  our  future  efforts.  Opposing 
circumstances  often  create  strength,  both  mental  and 
physical.  Labor  makes  us  strong.  Opposition  gives 
us  greater  power  of  resistance.  To  overcome  one 
barrier  gives  greater  ability  to  overcome  the  next.  It 
is  cowardice  to  grumble  about  circumstances.  Some 
men  always  talk  as  though  fate  had  woven  a  web  of 
circumstances  against  them,  and  it  were  useless  for 
them  to  try  to  break  through  it.  Out  upon  such 
dastardly  whining !  It  is  their  business  to  dash  on  in 
pursuit  of  their  object  against  everything.  Then 
circumstances  will  gradually  turn  in  their  favor,  and 
they  will  deem  themselves  the  favored  children  of 
destiny. 

Look  at  nature.  She  has  a  voice,  which  is  the 
voice  of  God,  teaching  a  thousand  lessons  of  perse- 
verance. The  lofty  mountains  are  wearing  down  by 
slow  degrees.  The  ocean  is  gradually,  but  slowly, 
filling  up,  by  deposits  from  its  thousand  rivers.  The 
Niagara  Falls  have  worn  back  several  miles  through 
the  hard  limestone  over  which  they  pour  their  thun- 
dering columns  of  water,  and  will  by-and-by  drain  the 
great  lake  which  feeds  their  boiling  chasm.  The  Red 
Sea  and  whole  regions  of  the  Pacific  ocean  are  grad- 
ually filling  up  by  the  labors  of  a  little  insect,  so 
small  as  to  be  almost  invisible  to  the  naked  eye. 
These  stupendous  works  are  going  on  before  our 


PERSEVERANCE. 


eyes,  by  a  slow  but  sure  process.  They  teach  a 
great  lesson  of  perseverance.  Nature  has  but  one 
voice  on  this  subject,  that  is  "Persevere!"  God  has 
but  one  voice,  that  is  "Persevere!"  and  duty  pro- 
claims the  same  lesson.  More  depends  upon  an 
active  perseverance  than  upon  genius.  Says  a  com- 
mon-sense author  upon  this  subject,  "Genius,  unex- 
erted,  is  no  more  genius  than  a  bushel  of  acorns  is  a 
forest  of  oaks."  There  may  be  epics  in  men's  brains, 
just  as  there  are  oaks  in  acorns,  but  the  tree  must 
come  out  before  we  can  measure  it.  We  very  nat- 
urally recall  here  that  large  class  of  grumblers  and 
wishers,  who  spend  their  time  in  longing  to  be  higher 
than  they  are,  while  it  should  have  been  employed  to 
advance  themselves.  They  bitterly  moralize  on  the 
injustice  of  society.  Do  they  want  a  change?  Let 
them  then  change  !  Who  prevents  them  ?  If  you 
are  as  high  as  your  faculties  will  permit  you  to  rise 
in  the  scale  of  society,  why  should  you  complain 
of  men? 

It  is  God  who  arranged  the  law  of  precedence. 
Implead  Him  or  be  silent  !•  If  you  have  capacity  for 
a  higher  station,  take  it.  What  hinders  you  ?  How 
many  men  would  love  to  go  to  sleep  beggars  and 
wake  up  Rothschilds  or  Astors  ?  How  many  would 
fain  go  to  bed  dunces,  to  be  waked  up  Solomons? 
You  reap  what  you  have  sown.  Those  who  have 
sown  dunce-seed,  vice-seed,  laziness-seed,  usually 
get  a  crop.  They  who  sow  the  wind  reap  a  whirl- 
wind. A  man  of  mere  "capacity  undeveloped"  is 
only  an  organized  degradation  with  a  shine  on  it. 


PERSEVERANCE. 


A  flint  and  a  genius  that  will  not  strike  fire  are  no 
better  than  wet  junk-wood.  We  have  Scripture  for 
it,  that  "a  living  dog  is  better  than  a  dead  lion  !"  If 
you  would  go  up,  go  —  if  you  would  be  seen,  shine. 
At  the  present  day  eminent  position,  in  any  profes- 
sion, is  the  result  of  hard,  unwearied  labor.  Men 
can  no  longer  fly  at  one  dash  into  eminent  position. 
They  have  got  to  hammer  it  out  by  steady  and 
rugged  blows.  The  world  is  no  longer  clay,  but 
rather  iron,  in  the  hands  of  its  workers. 

Work  is  the  order  of  this  day.  The  slow  penny  is 
surer  than  the  quick  dollar.  The  slow  trotter  will 
out-travel  the  fleet  racer.  Genius  darts,  flutters} 
and  tires  ;  but  perseverance  wears  and  wins.  The 
all-day  horse  wins  the  race.  The  afternoon-man 
wears  off  the  laurels.  The  last  blow  finishes  the  nail. 

Men  must  learn  to  labor  and  to  wait,  if  they  would 
succeed.  Brains  grow  by  use  as  well  as  hands.  The 
greatest  man  is  the  one  who  uses  his  brains  the  most, 
who  has  added  most  to  his  natural  stock  of  power. 
Would  you  have  fleeter  feet  ?  Try  them  in  the  race. 
Would  you  have  stronger  minds  ?  Put  them  at  ra- 
tional thinking.  They  will  grow  strong  by  action. 
Would  you  have  greater  success?  Use  greater  and 
more  rational  and  constant  efforts  ?  Does  competi- 
tion trouble  you  ?  Work  away  ;  what  is  your  compet- 
itor but  a  man  ?  Are  you  a  coward,  that  you  shrink 
from  the  contest?  Then  you  ought  to  be  beaten. 
Is  the  end  of  your  labors  a  long  way  off?  Every  step 
takes  you  nearer  to  it.  Is  it  a  weary  distance  to  look 
at?  Ah,  you  are  faint-hearted!  That  is  the  trouble 


182 


PLUCK. 


with  the  multitude  of  youth.  Youth  are  not  so  lazy 
as  they  are  cowardly.  They  may  bluster  at  first,  but 
they  won't  "stick  it  out."  Young  farmer,  do  you 
covet  a  homestead,  nice  and  comfortable,  for  yourself 
and  that  sweet  one  of  your  day-dreams?  What 
hinders  that  you  should  not  have  it?  Persevering- 
industry  with  proper  economy,  will  give  you  the  farm. 
A  man  can  get  what  he  wants  if  he  be  not  faint-heart- 
ed. Toil  is  the  price  of  success.  Learn  it,  young 
farmer,  mechanic,  student,  minister,  physician,  Chris- 
tian. Learn  it,  ye  formers  of  character,  ye  followers 
of  Christ,  ye  would-be  men  and  women.  Ye  must 
have  something  to  do,  and  do  it  with  all  your  might. 
Ye  must  harden  your  hands  and  sweat  your  brains. 
Ye  must  work  your  nerves  and  strain  your  sinews. 
Ye  must  be  at  it,  and  always  at  it.  No  trembling, 
doubting,  hesitating,  flying  the  track.  Like  the  boy 
on  the  rock,  ye  cannot  go  back.  Onward  ye  must 
go.  There  is  a  great  work  for  ye  all  to  do,  a  deep 
and  earnest  life-work,  solemn,  real  and  useful.  Life 
is  no  idle  game,  no  farce  to  amuse  and  be  forgotten. 
It  is  a  fixed  and  stern  reality,  fuller  of  duties  than  the 
sky  is  of  stars. 


THERE  is  seldom  a  line  of  glory  written  upon  the 
earth's  face  but  a  line  of  suffering  runs  parallel  with 
it ;  and  they  who  read  the  lustrous  syllables  of  the 


PLUCK.  183 

one,  and  stop  not  to  decipher  the  spotted  and  worn 
inscription  of  the  other,  get  the  lesser  half  of  the 
lesson  earth  has  to  give. 

The  hopelessness  of  any  one's  accomplishing  any- 
thing without  pluck  is  illustrated  by  an  old  East  Indian 
fable.  A  mouse  that  dwelt  near  the  abode  of  a  great 
magician  was  kept  in  such  constant  distress  by  its  fear 
of  a  cat,  that  the  magician,  taking  pity  on  it,  turned 
it  into  a  cat  itself.  Immediately  it  began  to  suffer 
from  its  fear  of  a  dog,  so  the  magician  turned  it  into 
a  dog.  Then  it  began  to  suffer  from  fear  of  a  tiger, 
and  the  magician  turned  it  into  a  tiger.  Then  it  began 
to  suffer  from  its  fear  of  huntsmen,  and  the  magician, 
in  disgust,  said,  "Be  a  mouse  again.  As  you  have 
only  the  heart  of  a  mouse,  it  is  impossible  to  help 
you  by  giving  you  the  body  of  a  nobler  animal." 
And  the  poor  creature  again  became  a  mouse. 

It  is  the  same  with  a  mouse-hearted  man.  He  may 
be  clothed  with  the  powers,  and  placed  in  the  position 
of  a  brave  man,  but  he  will  always  act  like  a  mouse ; 
and  public  opinion  is  usually  the  great  magician  that 
finally  says  to  such  a  person,  "Go  back  to  your 
obscurity  again.  You  have  only  the  heart  of  a  mouse, 
and  it  is  useless  to  try  to  make  a  lion  of  you." 

Many  depend  on  luck  instead  of  pluck.  The  P  left 
off  that  word  makes  all  the  difference.  The  English 
say  luck  is  all;  "it  is  better  to  be  born  lucky  than 
wise."  The  Spanish,  "The  worst  pig  gets  the  best 
acorn."  The  French,  "A  good  bone  never  falls  to  a 
good  dog."  The  German,  "Pitch  the  lucky  man  into 
the  Nile,  and  he  will  come  up  with  a  fish  in  his  mouth." 


SELF-RELIANCE. 

Fortune,  success,  fame,  position  are  never  gained, 
but  by  piously,  determinedly,  bravely  sticking,  living 
to  a  thing  till  it  is  fairly  accomplished.  In  short,  you 
must  carry  a  thing  through  if  you  want  to  be  anybody 
or  anything.  No  matter  if  it  do  cost  you  the  pleasure, 
the  society,  the  thousand  pearly  gratifications  of  life. 
No  matter  for  these.  Stick  to  the  thing  and  carry  it 
through.  Believe  you  were  made  for  the  matter,  and 
that  no  one  else  can  do  it.  Put  forth  your  whole 
energies.  Be  awake,  electrify  yourself;  go  forth  to 
the  task.  Only  once  learn  to  carry  a  thing  through 
in  all  its  completeness  and  proportion,  and  you  will 
become  a  hero.  You  will  think  better  of  yourself; 
others  will  think  better  of  you.  The  world  in  its  very 
heart  admires  the  stern,  determined  doer.  It  sees  in 
him  its  best  sight,  its  brightest  object,  its  richest 
treasure.  Drive  right  along,  then,  in  whatever  you 
undertake.  Consider  yourself  amply  sufficient  for 
the  deed,  and  you  will  succeed. 


GOD  never  intended  that  strong,  independent  beings 
should  be  reared  by  clinging  to  others,  like  the  ivy  to 
the  oak,  for  support.  The  difficulties,  hardships,  and 
trials  of  life — the  obstacles  one  encounters  on  the 
road  to  fortune — are  positive  blessings.  They  knit 
his  muscles  more  firmly,  and  teach  him  self-reliance, 

I 


SELF-RELIANCE.  185 

just  as  by  wrestling  with  an  athlete,  who  is  superior 
to  us,  we  increase  our  own  strength,  and  learn  the 
secret  of  his  skill.  All  difficulties  come  to  us,  as 
Bunyan  says  of  temptation,  like  the  lion  which  met 
Samson ;  the  first  time  we  encounter  them  they  roar 
and  gnash  their  teeth,  but,  once  subdued,  we  find  a 
nest  of  honey  in  them.  Peril  is  the  very  element  in 
which  power  is  developed.  "Ability  and  necessity 
dwell  near  each  other/'  said  Pythagoras. 

The  greatest  curse  that  can  befall  a  young  man  is 
to  lean,  while  his  character  is  forming,  on  others  for 
support.  He  who  begins  with  crutches  will  generally 
end  with  crutches.  Help  from  within  always  strength- 
ens, but  help  from  without  invariably  enfeebles  its 
recipient.  It  is  not  in  the  sheltered  garden  or  the 
hot-house,  but  on  the  rugged  Alpine  cliffs,  where  the 
storms  beat  most  violently,  that  the  toughest  plants 
are  reared.  The  oak  that  stands  alone  to  contend 
with  the  tempest's  blasts,  only  takes  deeper  root  and 
stands  the  firmer  for  ensuing  conflicts ;  while  the 
forest  tree,  when  the  woodman's  ax  has  spoiled  its 
surroundings,  sways  and.  bends  and  trembles,  and 
perchance  is  uprooted.  So  it  is  with  men.  Those 
who  are  trained  to  self-reliance  are  ready  to  go  out 
and  contend  in  the  sternest  conflicts  of  life ;  while 
men  who  have  always  leaned  for  support  on  those 
around  them,  are  never  prepared  to  breast  the  storms 
of  adversity  that  arise. 

Many  a  young  man  —  and  for  that  matter,  many  a 
one  who  'is  older  —  halts  at  his  outset  upon  life's 
battle-field,  and  falters  and  faints  for  what  he  con- 


SELF-RELIANCE. 


ceives  to  be  a  necessary  capital  for  a  start.  A  few 
thousand  dollars,  or  hundreds,  or  "something  hand- 
some" in  the  way  of  money  in  his  purse,  he  fancies 
to  be  about  the  only  thing-  needful  to  secure  his 
fortune. 

The  best  capital,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  a  young 
man  can  start  in  the  world  with,  is  robust  health, 
sound  morals,  a  fair  intelligence,  a  will  to  work  his 
way  honestly  and  bravely,  and  if  it  be  possible,  a 
trade  —  whether  he  follows  it  for  a  livelihood  or  not. 
He  can  always  fall  back  upon  a  trade  when  other 
paths  are  closed.  Any  one  who  will  study  the  lives 
of  memorable  men  —  apart  from  the  titled,  or  heredi- 
tarily great  —  will  find  that  a  large  majority  of  them 
rose  from  the  ranks,  with  no  capital  for  a  start,  save 
intelligence,  energy,  industry,  and  a  will  to  rise  and 
conquer.  In  the  mechanic  and  artizan  pursuits,  in 
commerce,  in  agriculture,  and  in  the  paths  of  litera- 
ture, science  and  art,  many  of  the  greatest  names 
have  sprung  from  poverty  and  obscurity.  Dr.  John- 
son made  himself  illustrious  by  his  intellect  and  indus- 
try —  so  did  Franklin,  and  so  have  multitudes  whose 
memories  are  renowned. 

The  greatest  heroes  of  the  battle-field  —  as  Napo- 
leon, Hannibal,  Cromwell  —  some  of  the  greatest 
statesmen  and  orators,  ancient  and  modern  —  as 
Demosthenes,  Chatham,  Burke,  and  our  own  Webster 
and  Clay  —  could  boast  no  patrician  advantages,  no 
capital  in  gold,  to  start  with.  The  grandest  fortunes 
ever  accumulated  or  possessed  on  earth  were  and  are, 
the  fruit  of  endeavor  that  had  no  capital  to  begin 


SELF-RELIANCE.  137 

with  save  energy,  intellect,  and  the  will.  From 
Croesus  down  to  Astor,  the  story  is  the  same  —  not 
only  in  the  getting  of  wealth,  but  also  in  the  acquire- 
ment of  various  eminence  —  those  men  have  won 
most,  who  relied  most  upon  themselves. 

The  path  of  success  in  business  is  invariably  the 
path  of  common  sense.  Notwithstanding  all  that  is 
said  about  "lucky  hits,"  the  best  kind  of  success  in 
every  man's  life  is  not  that  which  comes  by  accident. 
The  only  "good  time  coming"  we  are  justified  in 
hoping  for,  is  that  which  we  are  capable  of  making 
for  ourselves.  The  fable  of  the  labors  of  Hercules 
is  indeed  the  type  of  all  human  doing  and  success. 
Every  youth  should  be  made  to  feel  that  if  he. would 
get  through  the  world  usefully  and  happily,  he  must 
rely  mainly  upon  himself  and  his  own  independent 
energies.  Making  a  small  provision  for  young  men 
is  hardly  justifiable ;  and  it  is  of  all  things  the  most 
prejudicial  to  themselves.  They  think  what  they 
have  that  which  is  much  larger  than  it  really  is ;  and 
they  make  no  exertion.  The  young  should  never 
hear  any  language  but  this:  "You  have  your  own 
way  to  make,  and  it  depends  upon  your  own  exertions 
whether  you  starve  or  not."  Outside  help  is  your 
greatest  curse.  It  handcuffs  effort,  stifles  aspiration, 
shuts  the  prison  door  upon  emulation,  turns  the  key 
on  energy. 

The  wisest  charity  is  to  help  a  man  to  help  himself. 
To  put  a  man  in  the  way  of  supporting  himself  gives 
him  a  new  lease  of  life,  makes  him  feel  young  again, 
for  it  is  very  many  times  all  the  sick  man  needs  to 
restore  him  to  perfect  health.. 


SELF-RELIANCE. 

People  who  have  been  bolstered  up  and  levered  all 
their  lives,  are  seldom  good  for  anything  in  a  crisis. 
When  misfortune  comes,  they  look  around  for  some- 
body to  cling  to,  or  lean  upon.  If  the  prop  is  not 
there,  down  they  go.  Once  down,  they  are  as  help- 
less as  capsized  turtles,  or  unhorsed  men  in  armor, 
and  they  can  not  find  their  feet  again  without 
assistance. 

There  are  multitudes  of  such  men.  They  are  like 
summer  vines,  which  never  grow  even  ligneous,  but 
stretch  out  a  thousand  little  hands  to  grasp  the 
stronger  shrubs  ;  and  if  they  can  not  reach  them,  they 
lie  disheveled  in  the  grass,  hoof-trodden,  and  beaten 
of  every  storm.  It  will  be  found  that  the  first  real 
movement  upward  will  not  take  place  until,  in  a  spirit 
of  resolute  self-denial,  indolence,  so  natural  to  almost 
every  one,  is  mastered.  Necessity  is,  usually,  the 
spur  that  sets  the  sluggish  energies  in  motion. 
Poverty,  therefore,  is  oftener  a  blessing  to  a  young 
man  than  prosperity ;  for,  while  the  one  tends  to 
stimulate  his  powers,  the  other  inclines  them  to  languor 
and  disuse.  But,  is  it  not  very  discreditable  for  the 
young  man,  who  is  favored  with  education,  friends, 
and  all  the  outside  advantages  which  could  be  desired 
as  means  to  worldly  success,  to  let  those  who  stand, 
in  these  respects,  at  the  beginning,  far  below  him, 
gradually  approach  as  the  steady  years  move  on, 
and  finally  outstrip  him  in  the  race?  It  is  not  only 
discreditable,  but  disgraceful.  A  man's  true  position 
in  society  is  that  which  he  achieves  for  himself — he 
is  worth  to  the  world  no  more,  no  less.  As  he 


LABOR.  189 

builds  for  society  in  useful  work,  so  he  builds  for 
himself.  He  is  a  man  for  what  he  does,  not  for  what 
his  father  or  his  friends  have  done.  If  they  have 
done  well,  and  given  him  a  position,  the  deeper  the 
shame,  if  he  sink  down  to  a  meaner  level  through 
self-indulgence  and  indolence. 

If  the  boy  be  not  trained  to  endure  and  to  bear 
trouble,  he  will  grow  up  a  girl ;  and  a  boy  that  is  a 
girl  has  all  a  girl's  weakness  without  any  of  her 
regal  qualities.  A  woman  made  out  of  a  woman  is 
God's  noblest  work ;  a  woman  made  out  of  a  man  is 
his  meanest.  A  child  rightly  brought  up  will  be  like 
a  willow  branch,  which,  broken  off  and  touching  the 
ground,  at  once  takes  root.  Bring  up  your  children 
so  that  they  will  root  easily  in  their  own  soil,  and  not 
forever  be  grafted  into  your  old  trunk  and  boughs. 


THERE  is  dignity  in  toil  —  in  toil  of  the  hand  as 
well  as  toil  of  the  head  —  in  toil  to  provide  for  the 
bodily  wants  of  an  individual  life,  as  well  as  in  toil  to 
promote  some  enterprise  of  world-wide  fame.  All 
labor  that  tends  to  supply  man's  wants,  to  increase 
man's  happiness,  to  elevate  man's  nature  —  in  a  word, 
all  labor  that  is  honest — is  honorable  too.  Labor 
clears  the  forest,  and  drains  the  morass,  and  makes 
"the  wilderness  rejoice  and  blossom  as  the  rose." 


LABOR. 


Labor  drives  the  plow,  and  scatters  the  seeds,  and 
reaps  the  harvest,  and  grinds  the  corn,  and  converts 
it  into  bread,  the  staff  of  life.  Labor,  tending  the 
pastures  and  sweeping  the  waters  as  well  as  cultivat- 
ing the  soil,  provides  with  daily  sustenance  the  thous- 
and millions  of  the  family  of  man.  Labor  gathers  the 
gossamer  web  of  the  caterpillar,  the  cotton  from  the 
field,  and  the  fleece  from  the  flock,  and  weaves  it  into 
raiment  soft  and  warm  and  beautiful,,  the  purple  robe 
of  the  prince  and  the  gray  gown  of  the  peasant  being 
alike  its  handiwork.  Labor  molds  the  brick,  and 
splits  the  slate,  and  quarries  the  stone,  and  shapes 
the  column,  and  rears  not  only  the  humble  cottage, 
but  the  gorgeous  palace,  and  the  tapering  spire,  and 
the  stately  dome.  Labor,  diving  deep  into  the  solid 
earth,  brings  up  its  long-hidden  stores  of  coal  to 
feed  ten  thousand  furnaces,  and  in  millions  of  homes 
to  defy  the  winter's  cold 

Labor  explores  the  rich  veins  of  deeply-buried 
rocks,  extracting  the  gold  and  silver,  the  copper  and 
tin.  Labor  smelts  the  iron,  and  molds  it  into  a 
thousand  shapes  for  use  and  ornament,  from  the  mas- 
sive pillar  to  the  tiniest  needle,  from  the  ponderous 
anchor  to  the  wire  gauze,  from  the  mighty  fly-wheel 
of  the  steam-engine  to  the  polished  purse-ring  or  the 
glittering  bead.  Labor  hews  down  the  gnarled  oak, 
and  shapes  the  timber,  and  builds  the  ship,  and 
guides  it  over  the  deep,  plunging  through  the  billows, 
and  wrestling  with  the  tempest,  to  bear  to  our  shores 
the  produce  of  every  clime.  Labor,  laughing  at  diffi- 
culties, spans  majestic  rivers,  carries  viaducts  over 


LABOR.  191 

marshy  swamps^suspends  bridges  over  deep  ravines, 
pierces  the  solid  mountain  with  the  dark  tunnel,  blast- 
ing rocks  and  filling  hollows,  and  while  linking 
together  with  its  iron  but  loving  grasp  all  nations  of 
the  earth,  verifies,  in  a  literal  sense,  the  ancient  pro- 
phecy, "Every  valley  shall  be  exalted,  and  every 
mountain  and  hill  shall  be  brought  low."  Labor  draws 
forth  its  delicate  iron  thread,  and  stretching  it  from 
city  to  city,  from  province  to  province,  through  moun- 
tains and  beneath  the  sea,  realizes  more  than  fancy 
ever  fabled,  while  it  constructs  a  chariot  on  which 
speech  may  outstrip  the  wind,  and  compete  with 
lightning,  for  the  telegraph  flies  as  rapidly  as  thought 
itself. 

Labor,  the  mighty  magician,  walks  forth  into  a 
region  uninhabited  and  waste ;  he  looks  earnestly  at 
the  scene,  so  quiet  in  its  desolation,  then  waving  his 
wonder-working  wand,  those  dreary  valleys  smile 
with  golden  harvests ;  those  barren  mountain-slopes 
are  clothed  with  foliage ;  the  furnace  blazes ;  the 
anvil  rings ;  the  busy  wheel  whirls  round ;  the  town 
appears ;  the  mart  of  commerce,  the  hall  of  science, 
the  temple  of  religion,  rear  high  their  lofty  fronts ;  a 
forest  of  masts,  gay  with  varied  pennons,  rises  from 
the  harbor ;  representatives  of  far-off  regions  make 
it  their  resort ;  science  enlists  the  elements  of  earth 
and  heaven  in  its  service ;  art,  awakening,  clothes  its 
strength  with  beauty ;  civilization  smiles ;  liberty  is 
glad ;  humanity  rejoices ;  piety  exults,  for  the  voice 
of  industry  and  gladness  is  heard  on  every  side. 
Working  men  walk  worthy  of  your  vocation  !  You 


192 


LABOR. 


have  one  able  scutcheon ;  disgrace  it  not.  There  is 
nothing-  really  mean  and  low  but  sin.  Stoop  not 
from  your  lofty  throne  to  defile  yourselves  by  con- 
tamination with  intemperance,  licentiousness,  or  any 
form  of  evil.  Labor,  allied  with  virtue,  may  look  up 
to  heaven  and  not  blush,  while  all  worldly  dignities, 
prostituted  to  vice,  will  leave  their  owner  without  a 
corner  of  the  universe  in  which  to  hide  his  shame. 
You  will  most  successfully  prove  the  honor  of  toil  by 
illustrating  in  your  own  persons  its  alliance  with  a 
sober,  righteous  and  godly  life.  Be  ye  sure  of  this, 
that  the  man  of  toil  who  works  in  a  spirit  of  obedient, 
loving  homage  to  God,  does  no  less  than  cherubim 
and  seraphim  in  their  loftiest  flights  and  holiest  songs. 

Labor  achieves  grander  victories,  it  weaves  more 
durable  trophies,  it  holds  wider  sway,  than  the  con- 
queror. His  name  becomes  tainted  and  his  monu- 
ments crumble  ;.  but  labor  converts  his  red  battle-fields 
into  gardens,  and  erects  monuments  significant  of 
better  things.  Labor  rides  in  a  chariot  driven  by  the 
wind.  It  writes  with  the  lightning.  It  sits  crowned 
as  a  king  in  a  thousand  cities,  and  sends  up  its  roar 
of  triumph  from  a  million  wheels.  It  glistens  in  the 
fabric  of  the  loom,  it  rings  and  sparkles  from  the 
steely  hammer,  it  glories  in  shapes  of  beauty,  it 
speaks  in  words  of  power,  it  makes  the  sinewy  arm 
strong  with  liberty,  the  poor  man's  heart  rich  with 
content,  crowns  the  swarthy  and  sweaty  brow  with 
honor,  and  dignity,  and  peace. 

Don't  live  in  hope  with  your  arms  folded ;  fortune 
smiles  on  those  who  roll  up  their  sleeves,  and  put 


LABOR.  193 

their  shoulders  to  the  wheel.  You  cannot  dream 
yourself  into  a  character ;  you  must  hammer  and  forge 
yourself  one.  To  love  and  to  labor  is  the  sum  of 
living,  and  yet  how  many  think  they  live  who  neither 
love  nor  labor. 

The  man  and  woman  who  are  above  labor,  and 
despise  the  laborer,  show  a  want  of  common  sense, 
and  forget  that  every  article  that  is  used  is  the  product 
of  more  or  less  labor,  and  that  the  air  they  breathe,  and 
the  circulation  of  the  blood  in  the  veins,  is  the  result 
of  the  labor  of  the  God  of  nature.  The  time  was 
when  kings  and  queens  stimulated  their  subjects  to 
labor  by  example.  Queen  Mary  had  her  regular 
hours  of  work,  and  had  one  of  her  maids  of  honor 
read  to  her  while  she  plied  the  needle.  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh  relates  a  cutting  reply  made  to  him  by  the 
wife  of  a  noble  duke,  at  whose  house  he  lodged  over 
night.  In  the  morning  he  heard  her  give  directions 
to  a  servant  relative  to  feeding  the  pigs.  On  going 
into  the  breakfast  room  he  jocosely  asked  her  if  the 
pigs  had  all  breakfasted.  "All,  sir,  but  the  strange 
pig  I  am  about  to  feed,"  was  the  witty  reply.  Sir 
Walter  was  mute,  and  walked  up  to  the  trough. 

The  noblest  thing  in  the  world  is  honest  labor.  It 
is  the  very  nreservative  principle  of  the  universe. 
Wise  labor  brings  order  out  of  chaos ;  it  turns  deadly 
bogs  and  swamps  into  grain-bearing  fields ;  it  rears 
cities;  it  adorns  the  earth  with  architectural  monu- 
ments, and  beautifies  them  with  divinest  works  of  art ; 
it  whitens  the  seas  with  the  wings  of  commerce ;  it 
brings  remote  lands  into  mutual  and  profitable  neigh- 
13 


194  LABOR. 

borhood ;  it  binds  continents  together  with  the  fast- 
holding  bands  of  railroads  and  telegraphs ;  it  extin- 
guishes barbarism  and  plants  civilization  upon  its 
ruins ;  it  produces  mighty  works  of  genius  in  prose 
and  verse,  which  gladden  the  hearts  of  men  forever. 
Work,  therefore,  with  pride  and  gladness,  for  thereby 
you  will  be  united  by  a  common  bond  with  all  the 
best  and  noblest  who  have  lived,  who  are  now  living, 
and  who  shall  ever  be  born. 

Washington  and  his  lady  were  examples  of  industry, 
plainness,  frugality  and  economy  —  and  thousands  of 
others  of  the  wealthy,  labored  in  the  field  and  kitchen, 
in  older  times,  before  folly  superseded  wisdom,  and 
fashion  drove  common  sense  and  economy  off  the 
track. 

No  man  has  the  right  to  expect  a  good  fortune, 
unless  he  go  to  work  and  deserve  it.  "Luck!"  cried 
a  self-made  man,  "I  never  had  any  luck  but  by  getting 
up  at  five  every  morning  and  working  as  hard  as  I 
could."  No  faithful  workman  finds  his  task  a  pas- 
time. We  must  all  toil  or  steal  —  no  matter  how 
we  name  our  stealing.  A  brother  of  the  distinguished 
Edmund  Burke  was  found  in  a  revery  after  listening 
to  one  of  his  most  eloquent  speeches  in  Parliament, 
and  being  asked  the  cause,  replied,  "I  have  been 
wondering  how  Ned  has  contrived  to  monopolize  all 
the  talents  of  the  family ;  but  then  I  remember,  when 
we  were  at  play  he  was  always  at  work." 

The  education,  moral  and  intellectual,  of  every 
individual  must  be  chiefly  his  own  work.  How  else 
could  it  happen  that  young  men,  who  have  had  pre- 


LABOR.  195 

cisely  the  same  opportunities,  should  be  continually 
presenting"  us  with  such  different  results,  and  rushing 
to  such  opposite  destinies?  Difference  of  talent  will 
not  solve  it,  because  that  difference  is  very  often  in 
favor  of  the  disappointed  candidate. 

You  will  see  issuing  from  the  walls  of  the  same 
college  —  nay,  sometimes  from  the  bosom  of  the  same 
family  —  two  young  men,  of  whom  the  one  shall  be 
admitted  to  be  a  genius  of  high  order,  the  other 
scarcely  above  the  point  of  mediocrity  ;  yet  you  shall 
see  the  genius  sinking  and  perishing  in  poverty, 
obscurity  and  wretchedness,  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
you  shall  observe  the  mediocre  plodding  his  slow  but 
sure  way  up  the  hill  of  life,  gaining  steadfast  footing 
at  every  step,  and  mounting,  at  length,  to  eminence 
and  distinction  —  an  ornament  to  his  family,  a  blessing 
to  his  country. 

Now,  whose  work  is  this  ?  Manifestly  their  own. 
Men  are  the  architects  of  their  respective  fortunes. 
It  is  the  fiat  of  fate  from  which  no  power  of  genius 
can  absolve  you.  Genius,  unexerted,  is  like  the  poor 
moth  that  flutters  around  a  candle  till  it  scorches  itself 
to  death. 

It  is  this  capacity  for  high  and  long  continued  exer- 
tion, this  vigorous  power  of  profound  and  searching 
investigation,  this  careening  and  wide-spreading  com- 
prehension of  mind,  and  those  long  reaches  of  thought, 
that 

"  Pluck  bright  honor  from  the  pale-faced  moon, 
Or  dive  into  the  bottom  of  the  deep, 
Where  fathom  line  could  never  touch  the  ground, 
And  drag  up  drowned  honor  by  the  lock*." 


196 


LABOR. 


What  we  have  seen  of  men  and  of  the  world  con- 
vinces us  that  one  of  the  first  conditions  of  enjoying- 
life  is  to  have  something  to  do,  something  great  enough 
to  rouse  the  mind  and  noble  enough  to  satisfy  the 
heart,  and  then  to  give  our  mind  and  heart,  our 
thought  and  toil  and  affections  to  it,  to  labor  for  it,  in 
the  fine  words  of  Robert  Hall,  "with  an  ardor  bor- 
dering on  enthusiasm,"  or,  as  a  yet  greater  sage 
expresses  it,  to  "do  it  with  all  our  might." 

A  life  of  full  and  constant  employment  is  the  only 
safe  and  happy  one.  If  we  suffer  the  mind  and  body 
to  be  unemployed,  our  enjoyments,  as  well  as  our 
labors,  will  be  terminated.  One  of  the  minor  uses 
of  steady  employment  is,  that  it  keeps  one  out  of 
mischief;  for  truly  an  idle  brain  is  the  devil's  work- 
shop, and  a  lazy  man  the  devil's  bolster.  To  be 
occupied  is  to  be  possessed  as  by  a  tenant,  whereas 
to  be  idle  is  to  be  empty ;  and  when  the  doors  of  the 
imagination  are  opened,  temptation  finds  a  ready 
access,  and  evil  thoughts  come  trooping  in.  It  is 
observed  at  sea  that  men  are  never  so  much  disposed 
to  grumble  and  mutiny  as  when  least  employed. 
Hence  an  old  captain,  when  there  was  nothing  else 
to  do,  would  issue  the  order  to  "scour  the  anchor." 

Labor,  honest  labor,  is  mighty  and  beautiful. 
Activity  is  the  ruling  element  of  life,  and  its  highest 
relish.  Luxuries  and  conquests  are  the  result  of 
labor ;  we  can  imagine  nothing  without  it.  The 
noblest  man  of  earth  is  he  who  puts  his  hands  cheer- 
fully and  proudly  to  honest  labor.  Labor  is  a  business 
and  ordinance  of  God.  Suspend  labor,  and  where 


ENERGY.  197 

are  the  glory  and  pomp  of  earth  —  the  fruit,  fields, 
and  palaces,  and  the  fashioning"  of  matter  for  which 
men  strive  and  war?  Let  the  labor-scorner  look  to 
himself  and  learn  what  are  the  trophies.  From  the 
crown  of  his  head  to  the  sole  of  his  foot,  he  is  the 
debtor  and  slave  of  toil.  The  labor  which  he  scorns 
.has  tricked  him  into  the  stature  and  appearance  of  a 
man.  Where  gets  he  garmenting  and  equipage? 
Let  labor  answer.  Labor — which  makes  music  in 
the  mines  and  the  furrow  and  the  forge  —  oh,  scorn 
not  labor,  you  man  who  never  yet  earned  a  morsel  of 
bread  !  Labor  pities  you,  proud  fool,  and  laughs  you 
to  scorn.  You  shall  pass  to  dust,  forgotten  ;  but  labor 
will  live  on  forever,  glorious  in  its  conquests  and 
monuments. 


THE  longer  we  live  the  more  we  are  certain  the 
great  difference  between  men  —  between  the  feeble 
and  the  powerful,  the  great  and  the  insignificant,  is 
energy;  invincible  determination  —  a  purpose,  once 
fixed,  and  then  death  or  victory  !  That  quality  will 
do  anything  that  can  be  done  in  this  world ;  and  no 
talents,  no  circumstances,  no  opportunities,  will  make 
a  two-legged  creature  a  man  without  it.  v 

Never  suffer  your  energies  to  stagnate.  There  is 
no  genius  of  life  like  the  genius  of  energy  and 
industry.  All  the  traditions  current  among  very 


198  ENERGY. 

young-  men  that  certain  great  characters  have  wrought 
their  greatness  by  an  inspiration,  as  it  were,  grows 
out  of  a  sad  mistake.  There  are  no  rivals  so  formid- 
able as  those  earnest,  determined  minds,  which  reckon 
the  value  of  every  hour,  and  which  achieve  eminence 
by  persistent  application. 

The  difference  between  one  boy  and  another  con- 
sists not  so  much  in  talent  as  in  energy.  Provided 
the  dunce  have  persistency  and  application,  he  will 
inevitably  head  the  cleverer  fellow  without  these  qual- 
ities. Slow  but  sure  wins  the  race.  It  is  persever- 
ance that  explains  how  the  position  of  boys  at  school 
is  often  reversed  in  real  life ;  and  it  is  curious  to  note 
how  some  who  were  then  so  clever  have  since  become 
so  common-place,  whilst  others,  dull  boys,  of  whom 
nothing  was  expected,  slow  in  their  faculties,  but  sure 
in  their  pace,  have  assumed  the  position  of  leaders  of 
men.  We  recollect  that  when  a  boy  we  stood  in  the 
same  class  with  one  of  the  greatest  of  dunces.  One 
teacher  after  another  had  tried  his  skill  upon  him  and 
failed.  Corporeal  punishment,  the  fool's-cap,  coax- 
ing, and  earnest  entreaty,  proved  alike  fruitless. 
Sometimes  the  experiment  was  tried  of  putting  him 
at  the  top  of  his  class,  and  it  was  curious  to  note  the 
rapidity  with  which  he  gravitated  to  the  inevitable  bot- 
tom, like  a  lump  of  lead  passing  through  quicksilver. 
The  youth  was  given  up  by  many  teachers  as  an  incor- 
rigible dunce  —  one  of  them  pronouncing  him  to  be 
"a  stupendous  booby."  Yet,  slow  though  he  was, 
this  dunce  had  a  dull  energy  and  a  sort  of  beefy 
tenacity  of  purpose,  which  grew  with  his  muscles  and 


ENERGY.  199 

his  manhood ;  and,  strange  to  say,  when  he  at  length 
came  to  take  part  in  the  practical  business  of  life,  he 
was  found  heading  most  of  his  school  companions, 
and  eventually  left  the  greater  number  of  them  far 
behind.  The  tortoise  in  the  right  road  will  beat  a 
racer  in  the  wrong.  It  matters  not  though  a  youth 
be  slow,  if  he  be  but  diligent.  Quickness  of  parts 
may  even  prove  a  defect,  inasmuch  as  the  boy  who 
learns  readily  will  often  forget  quite  as  readily ;  and 
also  because  he  finds  no  need  of  cultivating  that 
quality  of  application  and  perseverance  which  the 
slower  youth  is  compelled  to  exercise,  and  which 
proves  so  valuable  an  element  in  the  formation  of 
every  character.  The  highest  culture  is  not  obtained 
from  teachers  when  at  school  or  college,  so  much  as 
by  our  own  diligent  self-education  when  we  have 
become  men.  Parents  need  not  be  in  too  great  haste 
to  see  their  children's  talents  forced  into  bloom.  Let 
them  watch  and  wait  patiently,  letting  good  example 
and  quiet  training  do  their  work,  and  leave  the  rest 
to  Providence.  Let  them  see  to  it  that  the  youth  is 
provided,  by  free  exercise  of  his  bodily  powers,  with 
a  full  stock  of  physical  health ;  set  him  fairly  on  the 
road  of  self-culture ;  carefully  train  his  habits  of 
application  and  perseverance ;  and  as  he  grows  older, 
if  the  right  stuff  be  in  him,  he  will  be  enabled  vigor- 
ously and  effectively  to  cultivate  himself. 

He  who  has  heart  has  everything ;  and  who  does  not 
burn  does  not  inflame.  It  is  astonishing  how  much 
may  be  accomplished  in  self-culture  by  the  energetic 
and  the  persevering,  who  are  careful  to  avail  them- 


200 


ENERGY. 


selves  of  opportunities,  and  use  up  the  fragments  of 
spare  time  which  the  idle  permit  to  run  to  waste.  In 
study  as  in  business,  energy  is  the  great  thing.  We 
must  not  only  strike  the  iron  while  it  is  hot,  but  strike 
it  until  it  is  made  hot. 

Give  us  not  men  like  weathercocks,  that  change 
with  every  wind,  but  men  like  mountains,  who  change 
the  winds  themselves.  There  is  always  room  for  a  man 
of  force  and  he  makes  room  for  many.  You  cannot 
dream  yourself  into  a(  character ;  you  must  hammer 
and  forge  yourself  one.  Therefore  don't  live  in  hope 
with  your  arms  folded  ;  fortune  smiles  on  those  who 
roll  up  their  sleeves  and  put  their  shoulder-s  to  the 
wheel.  "I  can't!  it  is  impossible!"  said  a  foiled 
lieutenant  to  Alexander.  "Begone!"  shouted  the 
conquering  Macedonian  in  reply — "there  is  nothing 
impossible  to  him  who  will  try;"  and  to  make  good 
his  words,  the  haughty  warrior,  not  yet  come  to  weep 
that  there  were  no  more  worlds  to  subdue,  charged 
with  a  phalanx  the  rock-crested  fortress  that  had 
defied  his  timid  subaltern,  and  the  foe  were,  swept 
down  as  with  the  besom  of  destruction. 

A  man's  character  is  seen  in  small  matters;  and 
from  even  so  slight  a  test  as  the  mode  in  which  a  man 
wields  a  hammer,  his  energy  may  in  some  measure 
be  inferred.  Thus  an  eminent  Frenchman  hit  off  in 
a  single  phrase  the  characteristic  quality  of  the  inhab- 
itants of  a  particular  district,  in  which  a  friend  of  his 
proposed  to  buy  land  and  settle.  "Beware,11  said  he, 
"of  making  a  purchase  there;  I  know  the  men  of 
that  department ;  the  pupils  who  come  from  it  to  our 


LUCK    AND    PLUCK.  201 

veterinary  school  at  Paris,  do  not  strike  hard  upon 
the  anvil;  they  want  energy ;  and  you  will  not  get  a 
satisfactory  return  on  any  capital  you  may  invest 
there;" — a  fine  and  just  appreciation  of  character, 
indicating  the  accurate  and  thoughtful  observer ;  and 
strikingly  illustrative  of  the  fact  that  it  is  the  energy 
of  the  individual  man  that  gives  strength  to  a  state, 
and  confers  a  value  even  upon  the  very  soil  which  he 
cultivates. 

It  is  a  Spanish  maxim,  that  he  who  loseth  wealth, 
loseth  much ;  he  who  loseth  a  friend,  loseth  more  ; 
but  he  who  loseth  his  energies,  loseth  all 


and 


YOUNG  man,  your  success  or  your  failure,  your 
weal  or  woe  of  life  will  hang  largely  in  the  manner  in 
which  you  treat  these  two  words. 

Rev.  G.  S.  Weaver  says:  "The  word  luck  is  sug- 
gestive of  a  want  of  law."  This  idea  has  passed 
into  many  common  proverbs,  such  as  these  :  "  It  is 
more  by  hit  than  good  wit  ;"  "  It  is  as  well  to  be  born 
lucky  as  rich;"  "Fortune  is  a  fickle  jade;"  "Risk 
nothing,  win  nothing;"  and  more  of  a  similar  import, 
all  ignoring  the  grand  rule  of  law  and  resting  upon 
the  atheistical  idea  of  chance. 

Our  fathers  were  good,  religious  people,  and  did 
not  mean  to  foster  atheism  when  they  talked  about 


ono  LUCK   AND    PLUCK. 

£*\Jf<t* 

luck,  and  gave  a  half-way  assent  to  its  Godless  real- 
ity. If  the  universe  were  an  infinite  chaos ;  if  order 
had  no  throne  in  its  wide  realm ;  if  universal  law 
were  a  fable  of  fancy ;  if  God  were  a  Babel,  or  the 
world  a  Pandemonium,  there  might  be  such  a  thing 
as  luck.  But  while  from  the  particle  to  the  globe, 
from  the  animalcule  to  the  archangel,  there  is  not  a 
being  or  a  thing,  a  time  or  an  event,  disconnected 
with  the  great  government  of  eternal  law  and  order, 
we  cannot  see  how  such  a  game  of  chance  as  the 
word  luck  supposes  can  be  admitted  into  any  corner 
of  the  great  world.  Luck  !  What  is  it  ?  A  lottery  ? 
A  hap-hazard  ?  A  frolic  of  gnomes  ?  A  blind-man's- 
bluff  among  the  laws?  A  ruse  .among  the  elements?1 
A  trick  of  dame  nature?  Has  any  scholar  defined 
luck,  any  philosopher  explained  its  nature,  any  chem- 
ist shone  us  its  elements?  Is  luck  that  strange,  non- 
descript unmateriality  that  does  all  things  among  men 
that  they  cannot  account  for?  If  so,  why  does  not 
luck  make  a  fool  speak  words  of  wisdom  ?  an  igno- 
ramus utter  lectures  on  philosophy ;  a  stupid  dolt 
write  the  great  works  of  music  and  poetry  ;  a  double- 
fingered  dummy  create  the  beauties  of  art,  or  an 
untutored  savage  the  wonders  of  mechanism  ? 

If  we  should  go  into  a  country  where  the  slug- 
gard's farm  was  covered  with  the  richest  grains  and 
fruits,  and  where  industry  was  rewarded  only  with 
weeds  and  brambles ;  where  the  drunkard  looked 
sleek  and  beautiful,  and  his  home  cheerful  and  happy,, 
while  temperance  wore  the  haggard  face  and  ate 
the  bread  of  want  and  misery ;  where  labor  starved, 


LUCK    AND    PI.UCK.  OQ3 

while  idleness  was  fed  and  grew  fat ;  where  common 
sense  was  put  upon  the  pillory,  while  twaddle  and 
moonshine  were  raised  to  distinction ;  where  genius 
lay  in  the  gutter  and  ignorance  soared  to  the  skies ; 
where  virtue  was  incarcerated  in  prison,  while  vice 
was  courted  and  wooed  by  the  sunlight,  we  might 
possibly  be  led  to  believe  that  luck  had  something  to 
do  there.  But  where  we  see,  as  we  everywhere  do 
in  our  world,  the  rewards  of  industry,  energy,  wis- 
dom and  virtue  constant  as  the  warmth  in  sunlight  or 
beauty  in  flowers,  we  must  deny  in  toto  the  very 
existence  of  this  good  and  evil  essence  which  men 
have  called  luck. 

Was  it  luck  that  gave  Girard  and  Astor,  Rothschild 
and  Gray  their  vast  wealth  ?  Was  it  luck  that  won 
victories  for  Washington,  Wellington,  and  Napoleon  ? 
Was.it  luck  that  carved  Venus  de'  Medici,  that  wrote 
the  "/Eneid,"  "Paradise  Lost,"  and  "Festus?"  Was 
it  luck  that  gave  Morse  his  telegraph,  or  Fulton  his 
steamboat,  or  Franklin  the  lightning  for  his  plaything? 
Is  it  luck  that  gives  the  me^hant  his  business,  the 
lawyer  his  clients,  the  minister  his  hearers,  the  phy- 
sician his  patients,  the  mechanic  his  labor,  the  farmer 
his  harvest?  Nay,  verily.  No  man  believes  it.  And 
yet  many  are  the  men  who  dream  of  luck,  as  though 
such  a  mysterious  spirit  existed,  and  did  sometimes 
humor  the  whims  of  visionary  cowards  and  drones. 

Many  are  the  young  men  who  waste  the  best  part 
of  their  lives  in  attempts  to  woo  this  coy  maid  into 
their  embraces.  They  enter  into  this,  or  that,  or  the 
other  speculation,  with  the  dreamy  hope  that  luck  will 


204  LUCK    AND    PLUCK. 

pay  them  a  smiling  visit.  Some  go  to  California,  or 
Australia,  or  the  "Far  West,"  or  to  the  torrid  or  the 
frigid  zone,  or  some  wondrous  away-off  place,  with 
no  fair  prospect  or  hope  of  success  from  their  own 
energies  and  exertions,  but  depending  almost  wholly 
on  a  gentle  smile  from  capricious  luck.  Poor  fellows  ! 
they  find  that  luck  does  not  get  so  far  from  home. 

Some,  less  daring  and  more  lazy,  loiter  about  home, 
drawl  around  town,  or  loll  through  the  country.  Their 
only  trust  or  expectation  is  in  a  shuffle  of  luck  in  their 
favor.  They  know  they  deserve  nothing,  yet,  with 
an  impudence  hard  as  brass,  they  will  pray  to  luck  for 
a  "windfall,"  or  a  "fat  office,  or  a  "living,"  and  fool- 
ishly wait  for  an  answer.  These  are  the  men  who 
make  your  gamblers,  your  horse-thieves,  your  coun- 
terfeiters, your  gentleman-loafers.  They  are  not  men 
who  originally  meant  any  harm.  But  they  believe  in 
luck,  and  their  trust  is  in  luck,  and  they  are  going  to 
have  it  out  of  luck  some  way.  They  despised  mean- 
ness at  first,  perhaps,  as  much  as  you  and  we  do ;  but 
somebody  told  them  of  luck,  and  they  believed,  and 
lo !  they  got  duped.  Little  by  little  they  went  over 
to  meanness,  waiting  all  the  while  for  a  shake  of  the 
hand  from  luck. 

Some  of  the  believers  in  luck  of  more  moral  firm- 
ness, dally  with  all  life's  great  duties,  and  so  do  about 
the  same  as  nothing,  and  eat  the  bread  of  disappoint- 
ment. They  do  a  little  at  this  business,  and  luck  does 
not  smile.  They  do  a  little  at  that,  and  still  luck 
keeps  away.  They  do  a  little  at  something  else,  they 
hear  not  a  foot-fall  from  luck.  And  so  they  fritter 


LUCK   AND    PLUCK.  205 

away  time  and  life.  These  are  the  do-littles.  Hard- 
working men  they  are  frequently.  It  is  with  them  as 
though  they  had  started  to  go  to  a  place  a  thousand 
miles  distant,  leading  to  which  there  were  many  roads. 
They  set  out  at  full  speed  on  one  road,  go  a  few  miles, 
and  get  tired,  and  so  conclude  to  turn  back  and  try 
another.  And  so  they  try  one  road  after  another, 
each  time  returning  to  the  starting-place.  In  a  little 
while  it  is  too  late  to  get  there  at  the  appointed  time, 
and  so  they  mope  along  any  road  they  happen  to  be 
on  till  the  day  is  over. 

They  crave  a  good  they  do  not  earn ;  they  pray  to 
luck  to  give  what  does  not  belong  to  them ;  their 
whole  inward  life  is  a  constant  craving  wish  for  some- 
thing to  which  they  have  no  just  claim.  It  is  a  morbid, 
feverish  covetousness,  which  is  very  apt  to  end  in  the 
conclusion,  "The  world  owes  me  a  living,  and  a  living 
I'll  have,"  and  so  they  go  out  to  get  a  living  as  best 
they  may.  They  fancy  that  every  rich  and  honored 
man  has  got  his  good  by  some  turn  of  luck,  and 
hence  they  feel  that  he  has  no  special  right  to  his 
property  or  his  honors,  and  so  they  will  get  either 
from  him  if  they  can.  They  look  upon  the  world, 
not  as  a  great  hive  of  industry,  where  men  are 
rewarded  according  to  their  labors  and  merits,  but  as 
a  grand  lottery,  a  magnificent  scheme, of  chance,  in 
which  fools  and  idlers  have  as  fair  a  show  as  talent 
and  labor. 

In  our  humble  opinion,  this  philosophy  of  luck  is 
at  the  bottom  of  more  dishonesty,  wickedness,  and 
moral  corruption  than  anything  else.  It  sows  its 


206  LUCK  AND  PLUCK. 

seeds  in  youthful  minds  just  at  that  visionary  season 
when  judgment  has  not  been  ripened  by  experience 
nor  imagination  corrected  by  wisdom.  And  it  takes 
more  minds  from  the  great  school-house  of  useful 
life,  and  more  arms  from  the  great  workshop  of  human 
industry,  than  any  other  one  thing  to  which  our  mind 
reverts.  It  is  a  moral  palsy,  against  which  every  just 
man  should  arm  himself.  The  cure  of  the  evil  is 
found  in  pluck. 

It  is  not  luck,  but  pluck,  which  weaves  the  web  of 
life  ;  it  is  not  luck,  but  pluck,  which  turns  the  wheel 
of  fortune.  It  is  pluck  that  amasses  wealth,  that 
crowns  men  with  honors,  that  forges  the  luxuries  of 
life.  We  use  the  term  pluck  as  synonymous  with 
whole-hearted  energy,  genuine  bravery  of  soul. 

That  man  is  to  be  pitied  who  is  too  fearful  and 
cowardly  to  go  out  and  do  battle  for  an  honest  living 
and  a  competence  in  the  great  field  of  human  exer- 
tion. He  is  the  man  of  luck,  bad  luck.  Poor  fellow  ! 
He  lost  his  luck  when  he  lost  his  pluck.  Good  pluck 
is  good  luck.  Bad  pluck  is  bad  luck.  Many  a  man 
has  lost  his  luck,  but  never  while  he  had  good  pluck 
left.  Men  lose  their  luck  by  letting  their  energies 
leak  out  through  bad  habits  and  unwise  projects. 
One  man  loses  his  luck  in  his  late  morning  naps, 
another  in  his  late  evening  hours.  One  loses  his  luck 
in  the  bar-room,  another  in  the  ball-room ;  one  down 
by  the  river  holding  the  boyish  fishing-rod,  another 
in  the  woods  chasing  down  the  innocent  squirrel. 
One  loses  his  luck  in  folly,  one  in  fashion,  one  in  idle- 
ness, one  in  high  living,  one  in  dishonesty,  one  in 


LUCK    AND    PLUCK.  OQ7 

brawls,  one  in  sensualism,  and  a  great  many  in  bad  / 
management.  Indeed,  bad  management  is  at  the 
bottom  of  nearly  all  bad  luck.  It  is  bad  management 
to  train  up  a  family  of  bad  habits,  to  eat  out  one's 
living  and  corrupt  his  life.  It  is  bad  management  to 
drink  liquor,  and  eat  tobacco,  and  smoke,  and  swear, 
and  tattle,  and  visit  soda-fountains,  and  cream  saloons, 
and  theatres,  and  brothels,  and  live  high,  and  chase 
after  the  fashions,  and  fret  and  scold,  and  get  angry, 
and  abuse  people,  and  mind  other  people's  business 
and  neglect  one's  own.  It  is  bad  management  to 
expose  one's  health  or  overtax  one's  powers,  and  get 
sick,  and  take  drugs  to  get  well ;  to  be  idle  or 
extravagant,  or  mean  or  dishonest.  All  these  things 
tend  to  bring  that  evil  genius  which  men  call  bad  luck. 

Indeed,  there  is  hardly  a  word  in  the  vocabulary 
which  is  more  cruelly  abused  than  the  word  "luck." 
To  all  the  faults  and  failures  of  men,  their  positive 
sins  and  thci  less  culpable  short-comings,  it  is  made 
to  stand  a  godfather  and  sponsor.  We  are  all  Micaw- 
bers  at  heart,  fancying  that  "something"  will  one  day 
"turn  up"  for  our  good,  for  which  we  have  never 
striven. 

An  unskillful  commander  sometimes  wins  a  victory ; 
and  again  a  famous  warrior  finds  himself,  "after  a 
hundred  victories,  foiled."  Some  of  the  skillfulest 
sea-captains  lose  every  ship  they  sail  in ;  others,  less 
experienced,  never  lose  a  spar.  Some  men's  houses 
take  fire  an  hour  after  the  insurance  expires ;  others 
never  insure,  and  never  are  burned  out.  Some  of 
the  shrewdest  men,  with  indefatigable  industry  and 


208  LUCK    AND    PLUCK. 

the  closest  economy,  fail  to  make  money ;  others,  with 
apparently  none  of  the  qualities  that  insure  success, 
are  continually  blundering-  into  profitable  speculations, 
and  Midas-like,  touch  nothing  but  it  turns  to  gold. 
Beau  Brummell,  with  his  lucky  sixpence  in  his  pocket, 
wins  at  every  gaming-table,  and  bags  ,£40,000  in  the 
clubs  of  London  and  Newmarket. 

So  powerfully  does  fortune  appear  to  sway  the 
destinies  of  men,  putting  a  silver  spoon  into  one 
man's  mouth,  and  a  wooden  one  into  another's,  that 
some  of  the  most  sagacious  of  men,  as  Cardinal 
Mazarin  and  Rothschild,  seem  to  have  been  inclined 
to  regard  luck  as  the  first  element  of  worldly  success; 
experience,  sagacity,  energy,  and  enterprise  as  noth- 
ing, if  linked  to  an  unlucky  star.  Whittington,  and 
his  cat  that  proved  such  a  source  of  riches ;  the  man 
who,  worn  out  by  a  painful  disorder,  attempted  sui- 
cide, and  was  cured  by  opening  an  internal  impos- 
thume ;  the  Persian,  condemned  to  lose  his  tongue, 
on  whom  the  operation  was  so  bunglingly  performed 
that  it  merely  removed  an  impediment  in  his  speech  ; 
the  painter  who  produced  an  effect  he  had  long  toiled 
after  in  vain,  by  throwing  his  brush  at  the  picture  in 
a  fit  of  rage  and  despair;  the  musical  composer,  who, 
having  exhausted  his  patience  in  attempts  to  imitate 
on  the  piano  a  storm  at  sea,  accomplished  the  precise 
result  by  angrily  extending  his  hands  to  the  two 
extremities  of  the  keys,  and  bringing  them  rapidly 
together — all  these  seem  to  many  fit  types  of  the  freaks 
of  fortune  by  which  som  men  are  enriched  or  made 
famous  by  their  blunders,  while  others,  wLh  ten  times- 


LUCK    AND    PLUCK.  209 

the  capacity  and  knowledge,  are  kept  at  the  bottom  of 
her  wheel.  Hence  we  see  thousands  fold  their  arms 
and  look  with  indifference  on  the  great  play  of  life, 
keeping  aloof  from  its  finest  and  therefore  most  ardu- 
ous struggles,  because  they  believe  that  success  is  a 
matter  of  accident,  and  that  they  may  spend  their 
heart's  choicest  blood  and  affection  on  noble  ends, 
yet  be  balked  of  victory,  cheated  of  any  just  returns. 
Really,  "lucky  fellows"  there  have  always  been  in  the 
world ;  but  in  a  great  majority  of  cases  they  who  are 
called  such  will  be  found  on  examination  to  be  those 
keen-sighted  men  who  have  surveyed  the  world  with 
a  scrutinizing  eye,  and  who  to  clear  and  exact  ideas 
of  what  is  necessary  to  be  done  unite  the  skill  neces- 
sary to  execute  their  well-approved  plans. 

At  first,  in  our  admiration  of  the  man  who  stands 
upon  the  topmost  round  of  the  ladder  of  fame,  we  are 
apt  to  mistake  the  way  in  which  he  got  there.  Our 
eyes  are  weary  with  gazing  up,  and  dazzled  .by  the 
brilliant  light ;  and  we  fancy  that  God  must  have  let 
him  down  out  of  heaven  for  us ;  never  thinking  that 
he  may  have  clambered  up,  round  after  round,  through 
the  mists  which  shroud  the  base  of  that  ladder,  while 
all  the  world,  in  its  heedlessness,  was  looking  another 
way.  Then,  when  we  come  to  know  better,  we  are 
content  to  lie  prostrate  at  the  foot  of  our  ladder,  as 
Jacob  slept  beneath  his,  dreaming  that  they  are  angels 
whom  we  see  ascending,  and  believing  they  ascend  by 
heaven-born  genius,  or  some  miraculous  way,  not  by 
pluck. 

A  better  solution  is  that  which   explains  the  phe- 


210 


LUCK    A^TD    PLUCK. 


nomena  of  eminent  success  by  industry.  Clearly, 
the  industrious  use  of  ordinary  tools,  whetheY  mechan- 
ical or  intellectual,  will  accomplish  far  more  than  the 
mere  possession  of  the  most  perfectly  appointed  tool- 
chest  that  was  ever  contrived.  This  is  especially 
true  of  the  mind,  whose  powers  improve  with  use. 
When  we  reflect  how  the  sharp  wit-blade  grows 
keener  in  often  cutting,  how  the  logic-hammer  swells 
into  a  perfect  sledge  in  long  striking,  how  all  our 
mental  tools  gain  strength  and  edge  in  severe  employ- 
ment, we  shall  see  that  it  is  but  a  poor  question  to 
ask  concerning  success  in  life,  "What  tools  had  you  ?" 
—  that  a  better  question  is,  "How  have  you  used 
your  tools  ?" 

One  who  thus  educates  himself  up  to  success  is 
often  contented  to  labor  a  long  while  in  a  very 
humble  sphere.  He  knows  too  much,  indeed,  to  aban- 
don one  position  before  his  powers  for  a  higher  one 
are  fully  ripe ;  for  he  has  observed  that  they  who 
leap  too  rapidly  from  one  of  life's  stepping-stones  to 
another,  are  more  likely  to  lose  their  footing  than  to 
improve  it.  Very  often,  therefore,  one  who  possesses 
this  character  grows  up  to  complete  manhood  before 
his  neighbors  take  him  out  of  his  cradle.  In  some 
Western  parish,  in  some  country  practice,  or  at  the 
head  of  some  district  school,  he  labors  quietly  for 
years  and  years,  gathering  a  secret  strength  from 
every  occurrence  of  his  life,  unnoticed,  unknown, 
until  at  last  the  crisis  of  opportunity  arrives  —  to 
every  man  such  opportunity  some  time  comes  —  and 
he  starts  forth,  armed  and  equipped,  thoroughly  built 


LUCK    AND    PLUCK.  2ll 

from  head  to  foot;  there  is  bone  for  strength,  and 
stout  muscle  for  movement,  and  society  nround  is 
astonished  to  find  that  it  contained  such  a  power,  and 
knew  it  not.  This  rise  of  an  individual,  thus  trained, 
is  sometimes  surprising"  in  its  suddenness.  To  the 
vision  of  mankind  around,  he  seems  to  shoot  up  like 
a  rocket ;  and  they  gaze,  and  wonder,  and  glorify  the 
power  of  genius.  Whereas  he  grew,  grew  by  a 
slow,  steady,  natural  process  of  growth,  available  to 
all  men.  He  grew,  however,  under  cover;  and  it 
was  not  until  circumstances  threw  the  cover  off  him, 
that  we  saw  to  what  stature  he  had  attained. 

It  is  by  the  exercise  of  this  forward-reaching 
industry  that  men  attain  eminence  in  intellectual  life. 
The  lives  of  eminent  men  of  all  nations  determine, 
by  a  vote  almost  overwhelming,  that  whatever  may 
have  been  their  native  powers,  they  did  not  attain 
their  ultimate  success  without  the  most  arduous,  well- 
directed,  life-lasting  labor  for  self-improvement. 

Idleness  is  death;  activity  is  life.  The  worker  is 
the  hero.  Luck  lies  in  labor.  This  is  the  end.  And 
labor  the  fruit  of  pluck.  Luck  and  pluck,  then,  meet 
in  labor.  Pleasure  blossoms  on  the  tree  of  labor. 
Wisdom  is  its  fruit.  Thrones  are  built  on  labor. 
Kingdoms  stand  by  its  steady  props.  Homes  are 
made  by  labor.  Every  man  of  pluck  will  make  him 
one  and  fill  it  with  the  fruits  of  industry.  In  doing 
this  he  will  find  no  time  to  wait  for,  or  complaid  of, 
luck. 


PURPOSE    AND    WILL. 


WE  can  never  overestimate  the  power  of  purpose 
and  will.  It  takes  hold  of  the  heart  of  life.  It  spans 
our  whole  manhood.  It  enters  into  our  hopes,  aims, 
and  prospects.  It  holds  its  sceptre  over  our  business, 
our  amusements,  our  philosophy,  and  religion.  Its 
sphere  is  larger  than  we  can  at  first  imagine. 

The  indomitable  will,  the  inflexible  purpose  looking 
for  future  good  through  present  evil,  have  always 
begotten  confidence  and  commanded  success,  while 
the  opposite  qualities  have  as  truly  led  to  timid 
resolves,  uncertain  councils,  alternate  exaltation  and 
depression,  and  final  disappointment  and  disaster.  A 
vacillating  policy,  irresolute  councils,  unstable  will, 
subordination  of  the  future  to  the  present,  efforts  to 
relieve  ourselves  from  existing  trouble  without  pro- 
viding against  its  recurrence,  may  bring  momentary 
quiet,  but  expose  us  to  greater  disquiet  than  ever 
hereafter.  A  double-minded  man  is  unstable  in  all 
his  ways.  Unstable  as  water,  thou  shalt  not  excel. 

When  a  child  is  learning  to  walk,  if  you  can  induce 
the  little  creature  to  keep  its  eyes  fixed  on  any  point 
in  advance,  it  will  generally  "navigate"  to  that  point 
.without  capsizing;  but  distract  its  attention  by  word 
or  act  from  the  object  before  it,  and  down  goes  the 
baby.  The  rule  applies  to  children  of  a  larger  growth. 
The  man  who  starts  in  life  with  a  determination  to 
reach  a  certain  position,  and  adheres  unwaveringly  to 


PURPOSE    AND    WILL.  213 

his  purpose,  rejecting  the  advice  of  the  over-cautious, 
and  defying  the  auguries  of  the  timid,  rarely  fails  if 
he  lives  long  enough  to  reach  the  goal  for  which  he 
set  out.  If  circumstances  oppose  him,  he  bends  them 
to  his  exigencies  by  the  force  of  energetic,  indomi- 
table will.  On  the  other  hand,  he  who  vacillates  in 
his  course,  "yawning,"  as  the  sailors  say,  toward  all 
points  of  the  compass,  is  pretty  sure  to  become  a 
helpless  castaway  before  his  Voyage  of  life  is  half 
completed. 

There  can  be  no  question  among  philosophic 
observers  of  men  and  events,  that  fixedness  of  pur- 
pose is  a  grand  element  of  human  success.  Weath- 
ercock men  are  nature's  failures.  They  are  good  for 
nothing. 

The  men  of  action,  whose  names  are  written 
imperishably  on  the  page  of  history,  were  men  of 
iron.  Silky  fellows  may  do  for  intrigue,  but  the 
.founders,  and  conquerors,  and  liberators,  and  saviors 
of  empires,  have  all  been  of  the  warrior  metal.  No 
human  being  who  habitually  halts  between  two 
opinions,  who  cannot  decide  promptly,  and  having 
decided,  act  as  if  there  was  no  such  word  as  fail,  can 
ever  be  great.  Caesar  would  never  have  crossed  the 
Rubicon,  nor  Washington  the  Delaware,  had  they 
not  fixed  their  stern  gaze  on  objects  far  beyond  the 
perils  at  their  feet. 

Henry  Ward  Beecher,  in  a  sermon,  remarked": 
"We  see  supreme  purposes  which  men  have  formed 
running  through  their  whole  career  in  this  world.  A 
young  man  means  to  be  a  civil  engineer.  That  is  the 


PURPOSE    AND    WILL. 

thing  to  which  his  mind  is  made  up ;  not  his  father's 
•\nind,  perhaps,  but  his.  He  feels  his  adaptation  to 
.that  calling-,  and  his  drawing  toward  it.  He  is  young, 
inexperienced,  forgetful,  accessible  to  youthful  sym- 
pathies, and  is  frequently  drawn  aside  from  his  life 
purpose.  To-day  he  attends  a  picnic.  Next  week  he 
devotes  a  day  to  some  other  excursion.  Occasionally 
he  loses  a  day  in  consequence  of  fatigue  caused  by 
overaction.  Thus  there  is  a  link  knocked  out  of  the 
chain  of  this  week,  and  a  link  out  of  the  chain  of  that 
week.  And  in  the  course  of  the  summer  he  takes  a 
whole  week,  or  a  fortnight  out  of  that  purpose.  Yet 
there  is  the  thing  in  his  mind,  whether  he  sleeps  or 
wakes.  If  you  had  asked  him  a  month  ago  what  he 
meant  to  be  in  life,  he  would  have  replied,  '  I  mean  to 
be  a  civil  engineer.'  And  if  you  ask  him  to-day  what 
has  been  the  tendency  of  his  life,  he  will  say,  '  I  have 
been  preparing  myself  to  be  a  civil  engineer.'  If  he 
waits  and  does  nothing,  the  reason  is  that  he  wants 
an  opportunity  to  carry  out  his  purpose.  That  pur- 
pose governs  his  course,  and  he  will  not  engage  in 
anything  that  would  conflict  with  it. 

"These  generic  principles  in  the  soul  are  like 
those  great  invisible  laws  of  nature,  whose  effects  are 
seen  in  the  falling  of  the  pebble-stone,  in  all  the 
various  changes  which  natural  objects  undergo.  When 
a  man  has  formed  in  his  mind  a  great  sovereign  pur- 
pose, it  governs  his  conduct,  as  the  law  of  nature 
governs  the  operation  of  physical  things. 

"Every  man  should  have  a  mark  in  view,  and  pur- 
sue it  steadily.  He  should  not  be  turned  from  his 


PURPOSE    AND    WILL.  215 

course  by  other  subjects  ever  so  attractive.  Life  is 
not  long-  enough  for  any  one  man  to  accomplish 
everything.  Indeed  but  few  can  at  best  accomplish 
more  than  one  thing  well.  Many,  alas,  very  many ! 
accomplish  nothing  worthy.  Yet  there  is  not  a  man 
endowed  with  fair  or  ordinary  intellect  or  capacity 
but  can  accomplish  at  least  one  useful,  important, 
worthy  purpose. 

"But  few  men  could  ever  succeed  in  more  than  one 
of  the  learned  professions.  Perhaps  the  man  never 
lived  who  could  master  and  become  eminent  in  the 
practice  of  all  of  them  —  certainly  not  in  them,  and 
also  in  agriculture  and  the  mechanic  arts.  Our 
country,  every  country,  abounds  with  men  possessing 
sufficient  natural  capacity  for  almost  or  quite  any  pur- 
suit they  might  select  and  pursue  exclusively.  Man's 
days,  at  most,  are  so  few,  and  his  capacity,  at  the 
highest,  so  small,  that  never  yet  has  he  even  by  con- 
fining the  united  efforts  and  energies  of  his  life-time 
at  the  most  trivial  pursuit,  much  less  in  the  deep  and 
intricate  learned  professions,  attained  to  perfection ; 
and  he  never  will.  How  much  less,  then,  are  the 
probabilities  of  his  exhausting  several,  and  those 
perhaps  the  most  complicated  spheres  of  man's 
activity." 

It  requires  purpose,  will,  and  oneness  of  aim  and 
invincible  determination  to  succeed  in  some  one 
calling. 

It  is  will — force  of  purpose  —  that  enables  a  man 
to  do  or  be  whatever  he  sets  his  mind  on  beincr  or 

o 

doing.     A  holy  man  was  accustomed  to  say,  "What- 


216  PURPOSE    AND    WILL. 

ever  you  wish,  that  you  are ;  for  such  is  the  force  of 
our  will,  joined  to  the  Divine,  that  whatever  we  wish 
to  be,  seriously,  and  with  a  true  intention,  that  we 
become.  No  one  ardently  wishes  to  be  submissive, 
patient,  modest,  or  liberal,  who  does  not  become 
what  he  wishes." 

Will  is  the  monarch  of  the  mind,  ruling-  with  des- 

• 

potic,  and  at  times  with  tyrannical  powers.  It  is  the 
rudder  of  the  mind,  giving  directions  to  its  move- 
ments. It  is  the  engineer  giving  course  and  point, 
speed  and  force  to  the  mental  machinery.  It  acts 
like  a  tonic  among  the  soul's  languid  powers.  It  is 
the  band  that  ties  into  a  strong  bundle  the  separate 
faculties  of  the  soul.  It  is  the  man's  momentum ;  in 
a  word,  it  is  that  power  by  which  the  energy  or  ener- 
gies of  the  soul  are  concentrated  on  a  given  point,  or 
in  a  particular  direction :  it  fuses  the  faculties  into  one 
mass,  so  that  instead  of  scattering  all  over  like  grape 
and  canister,  they  spend  their  united  force  on  one 
point.  The  intellect  is  the  legislative  department,  the 
sensibilities  are  the  judicial,  and  the  will  the  executive. 
Among  the  many  causes  of  failure  in  life,  none  is 
more  frequent  than  that  feebleness  of  the  will  which 
is  indicated  by  spasmodic  action  —  by  fitful  effort, 
or  lack  of  persistence.  Dr.  Arnold,  whose  long  expe- 
rience with  youth  at  Rugby  gave  weight  to  his  opinion, 
declared  that  "the  difference  between  one  boy  and 
another  consists  not  so  much  in  talent  as  in  energy." 
The  very  reputation  of  being  strong  willed,  plucky, 
and  indefatigable,  is  of  priceless  value.  It  often 
cows  enemies  and  dispels  at  the  start  opposition  to 


COURAGE.  217 

one's  undertakings  which  would  otherwise  be  for- 
midable. 

Says  Shakspeare,  "Our  bodies  are  our  gardens; 
to  the  which  our  souls  are  gardeners :  so  that  if  we 
will  plant  nettles,  or  sow  lettuce ;  sow  hyssop,  and 
weed  up  thyme ;  supply  it  with  one  gender  of 
herbs,  and  distract  it  with  many ;  either  to  have  it 
sterile  with  idleness,  or  manured  with  industry ;  why, 
the  power  and  corrigible  authority  of  this  lies  in  our 
wills." 

Where  there  is  a  will  there  is  a  way.  Nothing  is 
impossible  to  him  who  wills.  Will  is  the  root ;  knowl- 
edge the  stem  and  leaves  ;  feeling  the  flower. 

He  who  resolves  upon  doing  a  thing,  by  that  very 
resolution  often  scales  the  barriers  to  it,  and  secures 
its  achievement.  To  think  we  are  able  is  almost  to  be 
so — to  determine  upon  attainment,  is  frequently 
attainment  itself.  Thus,  earnest  resolution  has  often 
seemed  to  have  about  it  almost  a  savor  of  Omnipo- 
tence. "You  can  only  half  will,"  Suwarrow  would 
say  to  people  who  had  failed.  "I  don't  know,"  "I 
can't,"  and  "impossible,"  were  words  which  he 
destested  above  all  others.  "Learn!  do!  try!"  he 
would  exclaim. 


Nothing  that  is  of  real  worth  can  be  achieved 
without  courageous  working.  Man  owes  his  growth 
chiefly  to  that  active  striving  of  the  will,  that  encounter 


913  COURAGE. 

with  difficulty,  which  we  call  effort,  and  it  is  astonish- 
ing to  find  how  often  results  apparently  impracticable 
are  thus  made  possible.  An  intense  anticipation 
itself  transforms  possibility  into  reality ;  our  desires 
being  often  but  the  precursors  of  the  things  which 
we  are  capable  of  performing.  On  the  contrary, 
the  timid  and  hesitating  find  everything  impossible, 
chiefly  because  it  seems  so.  It  is'related  ot  a  young 
French  officer  that  he  used  to  walk  about  his  apart- 
ment exclaiming,  "I  will  be  marshal  of  France  and 
a  great  general."  This  ardent  desire  was  the  pre- 
sentiment of  his  success ;  for  he  did  become  a  dis- 
tinguished commander,  and  he  died  a  marshal  of 
France. 

Courage,  by  keeping  the  senses  quiet  and  the  under- 
standing clear,  puts  us  in  a  condition  to  receive  true 
intelligence,  to  make  just  computations  upon  danger, 
and  pronounce  rightly  upon  that  which  threatens  us. 
Innocence  of  life,  consciousness  of  worth,  and  great 
expectations  are  the  best  foundations  of  courage. 

True  courage  is  the  result  of  reasoning.  A  brave 
mind  is  always  impregnable.  Resolution  lies  more 
in  the  head  than  in  the  veins ;  and  a  just  sense  of 
of  honor  and  of  infamy,  of  duty  and  of  religion,  will 
carry  us  further  than  all  the  force  of  mechanism. 

To  believe  a  business  impossible  is  the  way  to  make 
it  so.  How  many  feasible  projects  have  miscarried 
through  despondency,  and  been  strangled  in  the  birth 
by  a  cowardly  imagination.  It  is  better  to  meet 
danger  than  to  wait  for  it.  A  ship  on  a  lee  shore 
stands  out  to  sea  in  a  stoVm  to  escape  shipwreck. 


COURAGE.  919 

Impossibilities,  like  vicious  dogs,  fly  before  him  who 
is  not  afraid  of  them.  Should  misfortune  overtake, 
retrench  —  work  harder  —  but  never  fly  the  track- 
confront  difficulties  with  unflinching"  perseverance. 
Should  you  then  fail,  you  will  be  honored  ;  but  shrink, 
and  you  will  be  despised.  When  you  put  your  hands 
to  a  work,  let  the  fact  of  your  doing  so  (Constitute  the 
evidence  that  you  mean  to  prosecute  it  to  the  end. 
Stand  like  a  beaten  anvil.  It  is  the  part  of  a  great 
champion  to  be  stricken  and  conquer. 

"Trouble's  darkest  hour 
Shall  not  make  me  cower 
To  the  sceptre's  power  — 
Never,  never,  never. 

"Then  up  my  soul,  and  brace  thee, 
While  the  perils  face  thee  ; 
In  thyself  encase  thee 
Manfully  for  ever. 

"Storms  may  howl  around  thee, 
Foes  may  hunt  and  hound  thee  ; 
Shall  they  overpower  thee  ? 
Never,  never,  never." 

Courage,  like  cowardice  is  undoubtedly  contagious, 
but  some  persons  are  not  at  all  liable  to  catch  it.  The 
attention  of  restless  and  fickle  men  turns  to  no  account ; 
poverty  overtakes  them  whilst  they  are  flying  so  many 
different  ways  to  escape  it.  What  is  called  courage 
is  oftentimes  nothing  more  than  the  fear  of  being 
thought  a  coward.  The  reverence  that  restrains  us 
from  violating  the  laws  of  God  or  man  is  not  unfre- 
quently  branded  with  the  name  of  cowardice.  The 
Spartans  had  a  saying,  that  he  who  stood  most  in 


220 


COURAGE. 


fear  of  the  law  generally  showed  the  least  fear 
of  an  enemy.  And  we  may  infer  the  truth  of  this 
from  the  reverse  of  the  proposition,  for  daily  experi- 
ence shows  us  that  they  who  are  the  most  daring  in 
a  bad  cause  are  often  the  most  pusillanimous  in  a 
good  one. 

Plutarch  says  courage  consists  not  in  hazarding 
without  fear,  but  by  being  resolute  in  a  just  cause. 
An  officer,  after  a  very  severe  battle,  on  being  com- 
plimented on  standing  his  ground  firmly,  under  a 
terrible  fire,  replied,  "Ah,  if  you  knew  how  I  was 
frightened,  you  would  compliment  me  more  still."  It 
is  not  the  stolid  man,  or  the  reckless  man,  who  exhibits 
the  noblest  bravery  in  the  great  battle  of  life.  It  is 
the  man  whose  nerves  and  conscience  are  all  alive ; 
who  looks  before  and  behind ;  who  weighs  well  all 
the  probabilities  of  success  or  defeat,  and  is  deter- 
mined to  stand  his  ground.  There  is  another  fine 
anecdote  apropos  to  this  subject:  A  phrenologist 
examining  the  head  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  said, 
"  Your  grace  has  not  the  organ  of  animal  courage 
largely  developed."  "You  are  right,"  replied  the 
great  man,  "and  but  for  my  sense  of  duty  I  should 
have  retreated  in  my  first  fight."  This  first  fight,  in 
India,  was  one  of  the  most  terrible  on  record.  O, 
that  word  "duty!"  What  is  animal  courage  com- 
pared with  it?  Duty  can  create  that  courage,  or  its 
equivalent,  but  that  courage  never  can  create  duty. 
The  Duke  of  Wellington  saw  a  man  turn  pale  as  he 
marched  up  to  a  battery.  "That  is  a  brave  man," 
said  he,  "he  knows  his  danger  and  faces  it." 


COURAGE.  221 

To  lead  the  forlorn  hope  in  the  field  of  courage 
requires  less  nerve  than  to  fight  nobly  and  unshrink- 
ingly the  bloodless  battle  of  life.  To  bear  evil  speak- 
ing and  illiterate  judgment  with  equanimity,  is  the 
highest  bravery.  It  is,  in  fact,  the  repose  of  mental 
courage. 

Physical  courage,  which  despises  all  danger,  will 
make  a  man  brave  in  one  way ;  and  moral  courage, 
which  despises  all  opinion,  will  make  a  man  brave  in 
another.  The  former  would  seem  most  necessary  for 
the  camp,  the  latter  for  council ;  but  to  constitute  a 
great  man,  both  are  necessary. 

No  one  can  tell  who  the  heroes  are,  and  who  the 
cowards,  until  some  crisis  comes  to  put  us  to  the 
test.  And  no  crisis  puts  us  to  the  test  that  does  not 
bring  us  up  alone  and  single-handed  to  face  danger. 
It  is  nothing  to  make  a  rush  with  the  multitude  even 
into  the  jaws  of  destruction.  Sheep  will  do  that. 
Armies  might  be  picked  from  the  gutter,  and  marched 
up  to  make  food  for  powder.  But  when  some  crisis 
singles  one  out  from  the  multitude,  pointing  at  him 
the  particular  finger  of  fate,  and  telling  him,  "Stand 
or  run,"  and  he  faces  about  with  steady  nerve,  with 
nobody  else  to  stand  behind,  we  may  be  sure  the 
hero  stuff  is  in  him.  When  such  a  crisis  comes,  the 
true  courage  is  just  as  likely  to  be  found  in  people  of 
shrinking  nerves,  or  in  weak  and  timid  women,  as  in 
great  burly  people.  It  is  a  moral,  not  a  physical 
trait.  Its  seat  is  not  in  the  temperament,  but  the  will. 
How  courageous  Peter  was,  and  all  those  square- 
built  fishermen  of  the  sea  of  Galilee,  at  the  Last  Sup- 


222 


COURAGE. 


per,  and  in  the  garden  of  Gethsemane,  where  Peter 
drew  his  sword  and  smote  the  officer!  But  when 
Christ  looked  down  from  his  cross,  whom  did  he  see 
standing  in  that  focus  of  Jewish  rage?  None  of 
those  stout  fishermen,  but  a  young  man  and  a  tender- 
hearted women  —  John  and  Mary. 

A  good  cause  makes  a  courageous  heart.     They 
.that  fear  an  overthrow  are  half  conquered.     To  be 
valorous  is  not  always    to  be    venturous.     A    warm 
heart  requires  a  cool  head. 

Though  the  occasions  of  high  heroic  daring  seldom 
occur  but  in  the  history  of  the  great,  the  less  obtrusive 
opportunities  for  the  exertion  of  private  energy  are 
continually  offering  themselves.  With  these,  domestic 
scenes  as  much  abound  as  does  the  tented  field.  Pain 
may  be  as  firmly  endured  in  the  lonely  chamber  as 
amid  the  din  of  arms.  Difficulties  can  be  manfully 
combated ;  misfortunes  bravely  sustained ;  poverty 
nobly  supported ;  disappointments  courageously  en- 
countered. Thus  courage  diffuses  a  wide  and  succor- 
ing influence,  and  bestows  energy  apportioned  to  the 
trial.  It  takes  from  calamity  its  dejecting  quality,  and 
enables  the  soul  to  possess  itself  under  every  vicis- 
situde. It  rescues  the  unhappy  from  degradation,  and 
the  feeble  from  contempt. 

Courage,  like  every  other  emotion,  however  laud- 
able in  its  pure  form,  may  be  allowed  to  degenerate 
into  a  faulty  extreme.  Thus,  rashness,  too  often 
assuming  the  name  of  courage,  has  no  pretentious  to 
its  merit.  For  rashness  urges  to  useless  and  impos- 
sible efforts,  and  thus  produces  a  waste  of  vigor  and 


LITTLE    THINGS.  223 

spirit,  that,  properly  restrained  and  well  directed, 
would  have  achieved  deeds  worthy  to  be  achieved. 
Rashness  is  the  exuberance  of  courage,  and  ought  to 
be  checked,  as  we  prune  off  the  useless  though 
vigorous  shoots  of  shrubs  and  trees. 


TRIFLES  are  not  to  be  despised.  The  nerve  of  a 
tooth,  not  so  large  as  the  finest  cambric  needle,  will 
sometimes  drive  a  strong  man  to  distraction.  A 
musquito  can  make  an  elephant  absolutely  mad.  The 
coral  rock,  which  causes  a  navy  to  founder,  is  the 
work  of  tiny  insects.  The  warrior  that  withstood 
death  in  a  thousand  forms  may  be  killed  by  an  insect. 
For  want  of  a  nail  the  shoe  was  lost ;  for  want  of  a 
shoe  the  horse  was  lost ;  for  want  of  a  horse  the 
rider  was  lost.  Every  pea  helps  to  fill  the  peck. 
Little  and  often  fills  the  purse.  Moments  are  the 
golden  sands  of  time.  Every  day  is  a  little  life ;  and 
our  whole  life  is  but  a  day  repeated ;  those,  therefore, 
who  dare  lose  a  day,  are  dangerously  prodigal ;  those 
who  dare  misspend  it,  desperate.  Springs  are  little 
things,  but  they  are  sources  of  large  streams  ;  a  helm 
is  a  little  thing,  but  it  governs  the  course  of  a  ship ; 
a  bridle  bit  is  a  little  thing,  but  see  its  use  and  power ; 
nails  and  pegs  are  little  things,  but  they  hold  parts 
of  large  buildings  together;  a  word,  a  look,  a  frown, 
all  are  little  things,  but  powerful  for  good  or  evil. 


224  LITTLE    THlN'/?i. 

Think  of  this,  and  mind  the  little  things.  Pay  that 
little  debt — its  promise  redeem. 

Little  acts  are  the  elements  of  true  greatness. 
They  raise  life's  value  like  the  little  figures  over  the 
larger  ones  in  arithmetic,  to  its  highest  power.  They 
are  tests  of  character  and  disinterestedness.  They 
are  the  straws  upon  life's  deceitful  current,  and  show 
the  current's  way.  The  heart  comes  all  out  in  them. 
They  move  on  the  dial  of  character  and  responsibility 
significantly.  They  indicate  the  character  and  destiny. 
They  help  to  make  the  immortal  man.  It  matters  not 
so  much  where  we  are  as  what  we  are.  It  is  seldom 
that  acts  of  moral  heroism  are  called  for.  Rather  the 
real  heroism  of  life  is,  to  do  all  its  little  duties  promptly 
and  faithfully. 

There  are  no  such  things  as  trifles  in  the  biography 
of  man.  Drops  make  up  the  sea.  Acorns  cover  the 
earth  with  oaks  and  the  ocean  with  navies.  Sands 
make  up  the  ba?r  in  the  harbor's  mouth,  on  which 
vessels  are  wrecked ;  and  little  things  in  youth  accu- 
mulate into  character  in  age,  and  destiny  in  eternity. 
All  the  links  in  that  glorious  chain  which  is  in  all  and 
around  all,  we  can  see  and  admire,  or  at  least  admit ; 
but  the  staple  to  which  all  is  fastened,  and  which  is 
the  conductor  of  all,  is  the  Throne  of  Deity. 

If  you  cannot  be  a  great  river,  bearing  great  ves- 
sels of  blessing  to  the  world,  you  can  be  a  little 
spring  by  the  wayside  of  life,  singing  merrily  all  day 
and  all  night,  and  giving  a  cup  of  cold  water  to  every 
weary,  thirsty  one  who  passes  by.  , 

Life  is  made  up  of  little  things.      He  who  travels. 


LITTLE    THINGS.  225 

over  a  continent  must  go  step  by  step.  He  who 
writes  books  must  do  it  sentence  by  sentence.  He 
who  learns  a  science  must  master  it  fact  by  fact,  and 
principle  after  principle.  What  is  the  happiness  of 
our  life  made  up  of?  Little  courtesies,  little  kind- 
nesses, pleasant  words,  genial  smiles,  a  friendly  letter, 
good  wishes,  and  good  deeds.  One  in  a  million  — 
once  in  a  lifetime  —  may  do  a  heroic  action;  but  the 
little  things  that  make  up  our  life  come  every  day 
and  every  hour.  If  we  make  the  little  events  of  life 
beautiful  and  good,  then  is  the  whole  life  full  of 
beauty  and  goodness. 

There  is  nothing  too  little  for  so  little  a  creature  as 
man.  It  is  by  studying  little  things  that  we  attain  the 
great  art  of  having  as  little  misery  and  as  much  hap- 
piness as  possible.  "If  a  straw,"  says  Dryden,  "can 
be  made  the  instrument  of  happiness,  he  is  a  wise 
man  who  does  not  despise  it."  A  very  little  thing 
makes  all  the  difference.  You  stand  in  the  engine- 
room  of  a  steamer ;  you  admit  the  steam  to  the  cylin- 
ders, and  the  paddles  turn  ahead ;  a  touch  of  a 
lever,  you  admit  the  self-same  steam  to  the  self-same 
cylinders,  and  the  paddles  turn  astern.  It  is  so, 
oftentimes,  in  the  moral  world.  The  turning  of  a 
straw  decides  whether  the  engines  shall  work  forward 
or  backward.  Look  to  the  littles.  The  atomic 
theory  is  the  true  one.  The  universe  is  but  an 
infinite  attrition  of  particles.  The  grandest  whole  is 
resolvable  to  fractions ;  or,  as  the  ditty  has  it — 

"Little  drops  of  water  ami  little  grains  of  sand, 
Fill  the  mighty  ocean  and  form  the  solid  land.1' 

15 


226  LITTLE    THINGS. 

Is  it  not  strange  -that,  in  the  face  of  these  facts, 
men  will  neglect  details  ?  that  many  even  consider 
them  beneath  their  notice,  and,  when  they  hear  of 
the  success  of  a  business  man  who  is,  perhaps,  more 
solid  than  brilliant,  sneeringly  say  that  he  is  "great 
in  little  things?"  Is  it  not  the  "little  things"  that, 
in  the  aggregate,  make  up  whatever  is  great?  Is  it 
not  the  countless  grains  of  sand  that  make  the 
beach ;  the  trees  that  form  the  forest ;  the  successive 
strata  of  rock  that  compose  the  mountains ;  the 
myriads  of  almost  imperceptible  stars  that  whiten  the 
heavens  with  the  milky-way?  So  with  character, 
fortune,  and  all  the  concerns  of  life  —  the  littles  com- 
bined form  the  great  bulk.  If  we  look  well  to  the 
disposition  of  these,  the  sum  total  will  be  cared  for. 
It  is  the  minutes  wasted  that  wound  the  hours  and 
mar  the  day.  It  is  the  pennies  neglected  that  squan- 
der the  dollars.  The  majority  of  men  disdain  littles 
—  to  many  fractions  are  "vulgar"  in  more  senses 
than  the  rule  implies.  It  is  apt  to  be  thought  indica- 
tive of  a  narrow  mind  and  petty  spirit  to  be 
scrupulous  about  littles.  Yet  from  littles  have  sprung 
the  mass  of  great  vices  and  crimes.  In  habits,  in 
manners,  in  business,  we  have  only  to  watch  the 
littles,  and  all  will  come  out  clear.  The  smallest  leak, 
overlooked,  may  sink  a  ship  —  the  smallest  tendency 
to  evil  thinking  or  evil  doing,  left  unguarded,  may 
wreck  character  and  life.  No  ridicule  should  dissuade 
us  from  looking  to  the  littles.  The  greatest  and  best 
of  men  have  not  been  above  caring  for  the  littles  - 
some  of  which  have  to  do  with  every  hour  and  every 
purpose  of  our  lives. 


LITTLE    THINGS.  227 

Often  what  seems  a  trifle,  a  mere  nothing-  by  itself, 
in  some  nice  situation  turns  the  scale  of  fate,  and  rules 
the  most  important  actions.  The  cackling-  of  a  goose 
is  fabled  to  have  saved  Rome  from  the  Gauls,  and  the 
pain  produced  by  a  thistle  to  have  warned  a  Scottish 
army  of  the  approach  to  the  Danes ;  and  according 
to  the  following  anecdote  from  Randall's  "Life  of 
Jefferson,"  it  seems  that  flies  contributed  to  hasten 
the  American  independence :  While  the  question  of 
independence  was  before  Congress,  it  had  its  meeting 
near  a  livery  stable.  Its  members  wore  short  breeches 
and  silk  stockings,  and,  with  handkerchief  in  hand, 
they  were  diligently  employed  in  lashing  the  flies  from 
their  legs.  So  very  vexatious  was  this  annoyance, 
and  to  so  great  an  impatience  did  it  arouse  the  suffer- 
ers, that  it  hastened,  if  it  did  not  aid  in  inducing  them 
to  promptly  affix  their  signatures  to  the  great  docu- 
ment which  gave  birth  to  an  empire  republic ! 

Discoveries  are  made  mostly  by  little  things.  The 
art  of  printing  owes  its  origin  to  rude  impressions 
(for  the  amusement  of  children)  from  letters  carved 
on  the  bark  of  a  beech  tree.  It  was  a  slight  matter 
which  thousands  would  have  passed  over  with  neglect. 
Gunpowder  was  discovered  from  the  falling  of  a  spark 
on  some  material  mixed  in  a  mortar. 

The  stupendous  results  of  the  steam-engine  may 
all  be  attributed  to  an  individual  observing  steam 
issuing  from  a  bottle  just  emptied  and  placed  casually 
close  to  a  fire.  He  plunged  the  bottle's  neck  into 
cold  water  and  was  intelligent  enough  to  notice  the 
instantaneous  rush  which  ensued  from  this  simple 


228 


IJTTLE    THINGS. 


condensing  apparatus.  Electricity  was  discovered  by 
a  person  observing  that  a  piece  of  rubbed  glass, 
or  some  similar  substance,  attracted  small  bits  of 
paper,  etc. 

Galvanism  again  owes  its  origin  to  Madame  Gal- 
vani's  noticing  the  contraction  of  the  muscles  of  a 
skinned  frog  which  was  accidently  touched  by  a  person 
at  the  moment  of  the  professor,  her  husband,  taking 
an  electric  spark  from  a  machine.  He  followed  up 
the  hint  by  experiments. 

Pendulum  clocks  were  invented  from  Galileo's 
observing  the  lamp  in  a  church  swinging  to  and  fro. 
The  telescope  we  owe  to  some  children  of  a  spec- 
tacle-maker placing  two  or  more  pairs  of  spectacles 
before  each  other  and  looking  through  them  at  a 
distant  object.  The  glimpse  thus  afforded  was  fol- 
lowed up  by  older  heads. 

The  barometer  originated  in  the  circumstance  of  a 
pump  which  had  been  fixed  higher  than  usual  above 
the  surface  of  a  well.  A  sagacious  observer  hence 
deduced  the  pressure  of  the  atmosphere  and  tried 
quicksilver. 

The  Argand  lamp  was  invented  by  one  of  the 
brothers  of  that  name  having  remarked  that  a  tube 
held  by  chance  over  a  candle  caused  it  to  burn  with  a 
bright  flame. 

Sedulous  attention  and  painstaking  industry  always 
mark  the  true  worker.  The  greatest  men  are  not 
those  who  "despise  the  day  of  small  things,"  but 
those  who  improve  it  the  most  carefully.  Michael 
Angelo  was  one  day  explaining  to  a  visitor  at  his 


LITTLE    THINGS.  229 

studio  what  he  had  been  doing  at  a  statue  since  his 
previous  visit.  "I  have  retouched  this  part  —  pol- 
ished that  —  softened  this  feature  —  brought  out  that 
muscle  —  given  some  expression  to  this  lip,  and  more 
energy  to  that  limb."  "But  these  are  trifles,"  re- 
marked the  visitor.  "It  may  be  so,"  replied  the 
sculptor,  "but  recollect  that  trifles  make  perfection, 
and  perfection  is  no  trifle."  So  it  was  said  of  Nicho- 
las Poissin  the  painter,  that  the  rule  of  his  conduct 
was,  that  "whatever  was  worth  doing  at  all  was 
worth  doing  well;"  and  when  asked,  late  in  life,  by 
what  means  he  had  gained  so  high  a  reputation 
among  the  painters  of  Italy,  he  emphatically  answered, 
"Because  I  have  neglected  nothing." 

Many  of  the  most  distinguished  names  in  the  world's 
history  were  nearly  half  a  century  in  attracting  the 
admiring  notice  of  mankind ;  as  witness  Cromwell 
and  Cavour,  and  Bismarck  and  Palmerston,  and  the 
elder  Beecher.  But  their  star  will  never  die;  their 
works,  their  influence  on  the  age  in  which  they  lived, 
will  be  perpetuated  to  remote  generations.  This 
should  be  encouragement  to  all  the  plodders,  for 
their  time  may  come. 

It  is  the  intelligent  eye  of  the  careful  observer 
which  gives  apparently  trivial  phenomena  their  value. 
So  trifling  a  matter  as  the  sight  of  sea-weed  floating 
past  jiis  ship,  enabled  Columbus  to  quell  the  mutiny 
which  rose  among  his  sailors  at  not  discovering  land, 
and  to  assure  them  that  the  eagerly  sought  New 
World  was  not  far  off.  There  is  nothing  so  small 
that  it  should  remain  forgotten  ;  and  no  fact,  however 


230  LITTLE    THINGS. 

trivial,  but  may  prove  useful  in  some  way  or  other 
if  carefully  interpreted.  Who  could  have  imagined 
that  the  famous  "chalk-cliffs  of  Albion"  had  been 
built  up  by  tiny  insects  —  detected  only  by  the  help  of 
the  microscope  —  of  the  same  order  of  creatures  that 
have  gemmed  the  sea  with  islands  of  coral !  And 
who  that  contemplates  such  extraordinary  results, 
arising  from  infinitely  minute  operations,  will  venture 
to  question  the  power  of  little  things  ? 

It  is  the  close  observation  of  little  things  which  is 
the  secret  of  success  in  business,  in  art,  in  science, 
and  in  every  pursuit  in  life.  Human  knowledge  is 
but  an  accumulation  of  small  facts,  made  by  successive 
generations  of  men,  the  little  bits  of  knowledge  and 
experience  carefully  treasured  up  by  them  growing  at 
length  into  a  mighty  pyramid.  Though  many  of 
these  facts  and  observations  seemed  in  the  first 
instance  to  have  but  slight  significance,  they  are  all 
found  to  have  their  eventful  uses,  and  to  fit  into  their 
proper  places.  Even  many  speculations  seemingly 
remote  turn  out  to  be  the  basis  of  results  the  most 
obviously  practical.  In  the  case  of  the  conic  sections 
discovered  by  Apollonius  Pergoeus,  twenty  centuries 
elapsed  before  they  were  made  the  basis  of  astronomy 
—  a  science  which  enables  the  modern  navigator  to 
steer  his  way  through  unknown  seas,  and  traces  for 
him  in  the  heavens  an  unerring  path  to  his  appointed 
haven.  And  had  not  mathematics  toiled  for  so  long, 
and,  to  uninstructed  observers,  apparently  so  fruit- 
lessly, over  the  abstract  relations  of  lines  and  surfaces, 
it  is  probable  that  but  few  of  our  mechanical  inven- 
tions would  have  seen  the  light. 


ECONOMY.  231 

When  Franklin  made  his  discovery  of  the  identity 
of  lightning  and  electricity,  it  was  sneered  at,  and 
people  asked,  "Of  what  use  is  it?"  to  which  his  apt 
reply  was,  "What  is  the  use  of  a  child?  It  may 
become  a  man ! "  When  Galvani  discovered  that  a 
frog's  leg  twitched  when  placed  in  contact  with  differ- 
ent metals,  it  could  scarcely  have  been  imagined  that 
so  apparently  insignificant  a  fact  could  have  lead  to 
important  results.  Yet  therein  lay  the  germ  of  the 
electric  telegraph,  which  binds  the  intelligence  of 
continents  together,  and  has  "put  a  girdle  round  the 
globe."  So,  too,  little  bits  of  stone  and  fossil,  dug 
out  of  the  earth,  intelligently  interpreted,  have  issued 
in  the  science  of  geology  and  the  practical  operations 
of  mining,  in  which  large  capitals  are  invested  and 
vast  numbers  of  persons  profitably  employed. 


ECONOMY  is  the  parent  of  integrity,  of  liberty,  and 
of  ease ;  of  cheerfulness,  and  of  health ;  and  profuse- 
ness  is  a  cruel  and  crazy  demon,  that  gradually 
involves  her  followers  in  dependence  and  debt ;  that  is, 
fetters  them  with  "irons  that  enter  into  their  souls." 

A  sound  economy  is  a  sound  understanding 
brought  into  action.  It  is  calculation  realized ;  it  is 
the  doctrine  of  proportion  reduced  to  practice.  It  is 
foreseeing  contingencies  and  providing  against  them. 
Economy  is  one  of  three  sisters  of  whom  the  other 


232  ECONOMY. 

and  less  reputable  two  are  avarice  and  prodigality. 
She  alone  keeps  the  straight  and  safe  path,  while  ava- 
rice sneers  at  her  as  profuse,  and  prodigality  scorns  at 
her  as  penurious.  To  the  poor  she  is  indispensable ; 
to  those  of  moderate  means  she  is  found  the  represen- 
tative of  wisdom.  The  loose  change  which  many 
young  men  throw  away  uselessly,  and  sometimes 
even  worse,  would  often  form  the  basis  of  fortune  and 
independence.  But  when  it  is  so  recklessly  squan- 
dered it  becomes  the  worst  enemy  to  the  young  man. 
He  will  soon  find  that  he  has  bought  nothing  but 
expensive  habits,  and  perhaps  a  ruined  character. 
Economy,  joined  to  industry  and  sobriety  is  a  better 
outfit  to  business  than  a  dowry. 

We  don't  like  stinginess,  we  don't  like  economy, 
when  it  comes  down  to  rags  and  starvation.  We 
have  no  sympathy  with  the  notion  that  the  poor  man 
should  hitch  himself  to  a  post  and  stand  still,  while  the 
rest  of  the  world  moves  forward.  It  is  no  man's  duty 
to  deny  himself  every  amusement,  every  recreation, 
every  comfort,  that  he  may  get  rich.  It  is  no  man's 
duty  to  make  an  iceberg  of  himself,  to  shut  his  eyes 
and  ears  to  the  sufferings  of  his  fellows,  and  to  deny 
himself  the  enjoyment  that  results  from  generous 
actions,  merely  that  he  may  hoard  wealth  for  his  heirs 
to  quarrel  about.  But  there  is  an  economy  which  is 
every  man's  duty,  and  which  is  especially  commend- 
able in  the  man  who  struggles  with  poverty  —  an 
economy  which  is  consistent  with  happiness,  and 
which  must  be  practiced  if  the  poor  man  would  secure 
independence.  It  is  almost  every  man's  privilege, 


ECONOMY.  233 

and  it  becomes  his  duty,  to  live  within  his  means ;  not 
to,  but  within  them.  This  practice  is  of  the  very 
essence  of  honesty.  For  if  a  man  does  not  manage 
honestly  to  live  within  his  own  means,  he  must  neces- 
sarily be  living  dishonestly  upon  the  means  of  some 
one  else.  If  your  means  do  not  suit  your  ends,  pur- 
sue those  ends  which  suit  your  means.  Men  are 
ruined  not  by  what  they  really  want,  but  by  what  they 
think  they  want.  Therefore  they  should  never  go 
abroad  in  searc/i  of  their  wants ;  if  they  be  real  wants 
they  will  come  home  in  search  of  them ;  for  if  they 
buy  what  they  do  not  want,  they  will  soon  want  what 
they  cannot  buy. 

Wealth  does  not  make  the  man,  we  admit,  and 
should  never  be  taken  into  the  account  in  our  judg- 
ment of  men ;  but  competence  should  always  be 
secured,  when  it  can  be,  by  the  practice  of  economy 
and  self-denial  only  to  a  tolerable  extent.  It  should 
be  secured,  not  so  much  for  others  to  look  upon,  or 
to  raise  us  in  the  estimation  of  others,  as  to  secure 
the  consciousness  of  independence,  and  the  constant 
satisfaction  which  is  derived  from  its  acquirement  and 
possession. 

Simple  industry  and  thrift  will  go  far  toward  making 
any  person  of  ordinary  working  faculty  comparatively 
independent  in  his  means.  Almost  every  working 
man  may  be  so,  provided  he  will  carefully  husband 
his  resources  and  watch  the  little  outlets  of  useless 
expenditure.  A  penny  is  a  very  small  matter,  yet 
the  comfort  of  thousands  of  families  depends  upon 
the  proper  saving  and  spending  of  pennies.  If  a 


234  ECONOMY. 

man  allow  the  little  pennies,  the  result  of  his  hard 
work,  to  slip  out  of  his  fingers  — some  to  the  beer- 
shop,  some  this  way  and  some  that  —  he  will  find  that 
his  life  is  little  raised  above  one  of  mere  animal 
drudgery.  On  the  other  hand,  if  he  take  care  of  the 
pennies ;  putting  some  weekly  into  a  benefit  society 
or  an  insurance  fund,  others  into  a  savings-bank,  and 
confiding  the  rest  to  his  wife  to  be  carefully  laid  out, 
with  a  view  to  the  comfortable  maintenance  and 
education  of  his  family,  he  will  soon  find  that  his 
attention  to  small  matters  will  abundantly  repay  him, 
in  increasing  means,  growing  comfort  at  home,  and  a 
mind  comparatively  free  from  fears  as  to  the  future. 
If  a  working  man  have  high  ambition  and  possess 
richness  in  spirit  —  a  kind  of  wealth  which  far  tran- 
scends all  mere  worldly  possessions  —  he  may  not 
only  help  himself,  but  be  a  profitable  helper  of  others 
in  his  path  through  life. 

When  one  is  blessed  with  good  sense,  and  fair 
opportunities,  this  spirit  of  economy  is  one  of  the 
most  beneficial  of  all  secular  gifts,  and  takes  high  rank 
among  the  minor  virtues.  It  is  by  this  mysterious 
power  that  the  loaf  is  multiplied,  that  using  does  not 
waste,  that  little  becomes  much,  that  scattered  frag- 
ments grow  to  unity,  and  that  out  of  nothing,  or  next 
to  nothing,  comes  the  miracle  of  something !  Economy 
is  not  merely  saving,  still  less,  parsimony.  It  is  fore- 
sight and  arrangement.  It  is  insight  and  combina- 
tion. It  is  a  subtle  philosophy  of  things  by  which 
new  uses,  new  compositions  are  discovered.  It  causes 
inert  things  to  labor,  useless  things  to  serve  our 


ECONOMY.  235 

necessities,  perishing-  things  to  renew  their  vigor, 
and  all  things  to  exert  .hemselves  for  human  comfort. 
Economy  is  generalship  in  little  things.  We  know 
men  who  live  better  on  a  thousand  dollars  a  year  than 
others  upon  five  thousand.  We  know  very  poor 
persons  who  bear  about  with  them  in  everything  a 
sense  of  fitness  and  nice  arrangement,  which  makes 
their  life  artistic.  There  are  day  laborers  who  go 
home  to  more  real  comfort  of  neatness,  arrangement, 
and  prosperity,  in  their  single  snug  room,  than  is 
found  in  the  lordly  dwellings  of  many  millionaires. 
And  blessings  be  on  their  good  angel  of  economy, 
which  wastes  nothing,  and  yet  is  not  sordid  in  saving ; 
that  lavishes  nothing,  and  is  not  parsimonious  in  giv- 
ing; that  spreads  out  a  little  with  the  blessings  of 
taste  upon  it,  which,  if  it  does  not  multiply  the  pro- 
vision, more  than  makes  it  up  in  the  pleasure  given. 
Let  no  man  despise  economy. 

There  is  no  virtue  so  unduly  appreciated  as  economy, 
nor  is  there  one  more  truly  worthy  of  estimation ;  a 
neglect  of  economy  eventually  leads  to  every  misery 
of  poverty  and  degradation,  not  unfrequently  to  every 
variety  of  error  and  of  crime.  Dr.  Johnson  asserted 
"that  where  there  was  no  prudence,  there  was  no 
virtue."  Of  all  the  maxims  pronounced  by  that  great 
moralist,  perhaps  no  one  was  more  just  or  more 
instructive.  Even  in  that  branch  of  prudence  that 
directs  us  to  take  cognizance  of  our  pecuniary  affairs, 
the  propriety  of  this  aphorism  is  very  striking. 

The  progress  of  civilization  has  incurred  a  necessity 
of  barter  and  exchange  as  the  means  of  subsistence. 


236 


ECONOMY. 


Thus  wealth,  as  the  medium  of  acquiring-  all  the 
comforts  and  all  the  luxuries  of  life,  has  obtained  high 
consideration  among  mankind.  Philosophers  may 
therefore  scoff  as  much  as  they  please  at  the  value 
placed  upon  riches,  but  they  will  never  succeed  in 
lessening  the  desire  for  their  possession.  When 
considered  as  the  means  of  enjoying  existence,  it 
must  be  seen  that  it  is  only  by  the  judicious  expendi- 
ture of  wealth,  that  this  end  can  be  obtained.  Pass 
a  few  years,  and  the  prodigal  is  penniless.  How  few, 
under  such  circumstances,  directly  or  indirectly,  are 
guilty  of  injustice  and  cruelty.  Debts  unpaid,  friends 
deceived,  kindred  deprived  of  a  rightful  inheritance  — 
such  are  the  consequences  of  profusion,  and  are  not 
such  positive  acts  of  injustice  and  cruelty  ?  Let  those, 
therefore,  who  indignantly  stigmatize  the  miser  as  a 
pest  to  society,  and  in  a  fancied  honorable  horror  of 
miserly  meanness  are  for  showing  their  nobler  spirit 
by  running  into  an  opposite  extreme,  reflect,  that 
though  different  the  means,  the  results  of  profusion 
are  similar,  exactly  conducting  to  the  same  crimes 
and  miseries.  The  taste  of  the  age  is  so  much  more 
friendly  to  prodigality;  the  lavish  expenditure  of 
wealth,  by  conducing  to  the  gratification  of  society, 
is  so  often  unduly  applauded,  that  it  is  an  extreme 
likely  to  be  rushed  upon.  But  when  the  real  con- 
sequences of  its  indulgence  are  fairly  and  dispas- 
sionately surveyed,  its  true  deformity  will  be  quickly 
perceived. 

In  short,  economy  appears  to  induce  the  exertion  of 
almost  every  laudable  emotion  ;  a  strict  regard  to  hon- 


FARM     LIFE.  237 

esty;  a  spirit  of  independence;  a  judicious  prudence 
in  providing-  for  the  wants ;  a  steady  benevolence  in 
preparing-  for  the  claims  of  the  future.  Really  we 
seem  to  have  run  the  circle  of  the  virtues ;  justice  and 
disinterestedness,  honesty,  independence,  prudence 
and  benevolence. 


AGRICULTURE  is  the  greatest  among  the  yrts,  for  it 
is  first  in  supplying  our  necessities.  It  is  the  mother 
and  nurse  of  all  other  arts.  It  favors  and  strengthens 
population ;  it  creates  and  maintains  manufactures, 
gives  employment  to  navigation  and  materials  to  com- 
merce. It  animates  every  species  of  industry,  and 
opens  to  nations  the  surest  channels  of  opulence.  It 
is  also  the  strongest  bond  of  well-regulated  society, 
the  surest  basis  of  internal  peace,  the  natural  associate 
of  good  morals. 

We  ought  to  count  among  the  benefits  of  agricul- 
ture the  charm  which  the  practice  of  it  communicates 
to  a  country  life.  That  charm  which  has  made  the 
country,  in  our  own  view,  the  retreat  of  the  hero,  the 
asylum  of  the  sage,  and  the  temple  of  the  historic 
muse.  The  strong  desire,  the  longing  after  the 
country,  with  which  we  find  the  bulk  of  mankind  to 
be  penetrated,  points  to  it  as  the  chosen  abode  of 
sublunary  bliss.  The  sweet  occupations  of  culture, 
with  her  varied  products  and  attendant  enjoyments 


238 


FARM    LIKE. 


are,  at  least,  a  relief  from  the  stifling  atmosphere  of 
the  city,  the  monotony  of  subdivided  employments, 
the  anxious  uncertainty  of  commerce,  the  vexations 
of  ambition  so  often  disappointed,  of  self-love  so 
often  mortified,  of  fictitious  pleasures  and  unsubstan- 
tial vanities. 

Health,  the  first  and  best  of  all  the  blessings  of  life, 
is  preserved  and  fortified  by  the  practice  of  agriculture. 
That  state  of  well-being  which  we  feel  and  cannot 
define ;  that  self-satisfied  disposition  which  depends, 
perhaps,  on  the  perfect  equilibrium  and  easy  play  of 
vital  forces,  turns  the  slightest  acts  to  pleasure,  and 
makes  every  exertion  of  our  faculties  a  source  of 
enjoyment ;  this  inestimable  state  of  our  bodily  func- 
tions is  most  vigorous  in  the  country,  and  if  lost  else- 
where, it  is  in  the  country  we  expect  to  recover  it. 

"In  ancient  times,  the  sacred  plow  employ'd 
The  kings,  and  awful  fathers  of  mankind  : 
And  some,  with  whom  compared,  your  insect  tribes 
Are  but  the  beings  of  a  summer's  day, 
Have  held  the  scale  of  empire,  ruled  the  storm 
Of  mighty  war,  then,  with  unwearied  hand, 
Disdaining  little  delicacies,  seized 
The  plow  and  greatly  independent  lived." 

— THOMSON'S  SEASONS. 

We  deplore  the  disposition  of  young  men  to  get 
away  from  their  farm  homes  to  our  large  cities,  where 
they  are  subject  to  difficulties  and  temptations,  which 
but  too  often  they  fail  to  overcome. 

Depend  upon  it,  if  you  would  hold  your  sons  and 
brothers  back  from  roaming  away  into  the  perilous 
centres,  you  must  steadily  make  three  attempts  —  to 


FARM    LIFE.  239 

abate  the  task-work  of  farming,  to  raise  maximum 
crops  and  profits,  and  to  surround  your  work  with  the 
exhilaration  of  intellectual  progress.  You  must  ele- 
vate the  whole  spirit  of  your  vocation  for  your 
vocation's  sake,  till  no  other  can  outstrip  it  in  what 
most  adorns  and  strengthens  a  civilized  state. 

We  have  long  observed,  and  with  unfeigned 
regret,  the  growing  tendency  of  young  men  and  lads, 
yet  early  in  their  teens,  to  abandon  the  healthful  and 
ennobling  cares  of  the  farm  for  the  dangerous  excite- 
ments and  vicissitudes  of  city  life  and  trade.  Delight- 
ful firesides  and  friendly  circles  in  the  quiet  rural 
districts  are  every  day  sacrificed  to  this  lamentable 
mania  of  the  times.  Young  men,  favored  with  every 
comfort  of  life,  and  not  overworked,  fancy  that  they 
may  do  far  better  than  "to  guide  the  ox  or  turn  the 
stubborn  glebe ;"  and  with  the  merest  trifle  of  con- 
sideration their  hands  are  withdrawn  from  the  imple- 
ments of  agriculture  and  given  to  the  office  or  shop- 
work  of  the  city,  which  generally  proves  vastly  less 
agreeable  or  profitable  than  they  had  (in  their 
inexcusable  thoughtlessness)  anticipated.  Disap- 
pointed and  chagrined,  they  faint  under  the  advance 
of 

"Nimble  mischance,  that  comes  so  swift  of  foot," 

and  where  one  is  enabled  to  withstand  the  sweeping 
tide  of  temptation,  five  are  submerged  in  its  angry 
waves  and  hurried  on  to  ruin.  Every  year  finds 
hundreds,  ay,  thousands,  of  such  victims  irrecoverably 
allied  to  the  fallen  and  vicious  of  every  class,  from 


240  FARM    LIFE. 

the  smoothed-tongued  parlor  gambler  and  rake,  to 
the  more  degraded,  if  not  more  despicable,  "Bowery 
Boy"  and  "Dead  Rabbit,"  while  the  prison  doors,  and 
worse,  the  gates  of  hell,  close  on  many  "lost  ones" 
who  had  been  saved  but  for  the  foolish  desertion  of 
home  and  true  friends.  It  has  been  well  said  that 
"for  a  young  man  of  unstable  habits  and  without 
religious  principles,  there  is  no  place  where  he  will  be 
so  soon  ruined  as  in  a  large  city." 

Parents  throughout  the  country  have  not  failed  to 
realize  this  startling  truth,  and  to  sorely  mourn  the 
strange  inclination  of  their  sons  to  encounter  the 
fascinating  snares  and  pitfalls  of  city  residence  and 
fashion.  In  brief,  let  the  country  lad  be  as  well 
educated  for  the  farm  as  his  city  cousin  is  for  the  bar, 
or  the  counting-room.  And  by  all  possible  means  let 
the  farmer  be  led  to  properly  estimate  his  high  and 
honorable  position  in  the  community.  "Ever  remem- 
ber," writes  Goldthwait,  "that  for  health  and  sub- 
stantial wealth,  for  rare  opportunities  for  self-improve- 
ment, for  long  life  and  real  independence,  farming  is 
the  best  business  in  the  world."  History  tells  of  one 
who  was  called  from  the  plow  to  the  palace,  from  the 
farm  to  the  forum ;  and  when  he  had  silenced  the 
angry  tumults  of  a  State  resumed  again  the  quiet 
duties  of  a  husbandman.  Of  whose  resting-place 
did  Halleck  write  these  beautiful  lines  ? 


"Such  graves  as  his  are  pilgrim-shrines, 
Shrines  to  no  code  or  creed  confined  • 
The  Delphian  vales,  the  Palestines, 
The  Meccas  of  the  mind." 


FARM    LIFE.  241 

He  referred  to  Burns,  the  plow-boy,  afterward  the 
national  bard  of  Scotland.  And  Burns  himself  has 
left  evidence  that  he  composed  some  of  the  rarest 
gems  of  his  poetry  while  engaged  in  rural  pursuits. 

It  would  require  volumes  to  enumerate  the  noble 
men  who  have  imperishably  recorded  their  exalted 
appreciation  of  rurul  life  and  enterprise.  Every  age 
has  augmented  the  illustrious  number.  Our  own 
immortal  Washington  was  ever  more  enamored  qf  the 
sickle  than  the  sword,  and  unhesitatingly  pronounced 
agriculture  "the  most  healthy,  the  most  useful,  and 
the  most  noble  employment  of  man." 

When  we  walk  abroad  in  nature,  we  go  not  as 
artists  to  study  her  scenes,  but  as  her  children  to 
rejoice  in  her  beauty.  The  breath  of  the  air,  the  blue 
of  the  unclouded  sky,  the  shining  sun,  and  the  green 
softness  of  the  unflowered  turf  beneath  our  feet,  are  all 
that  we  require  to  make  us  feel  that  we  are  trans- 
ported into  a  region  of  delights.  We  breathe  and 
tread  in  a  pure  untroubled  world,  and  the  fresh  clear 
delight  that  breathes  round  our  senses  seems  to  bathe 
our  spirits  in  the  innocence  of  nature.  It  is  not  that 
we  have  prized  a  solitude  which  secludes  us  from  the 
world  of  life ;  but  the  aspects  on  which  we  look 
breathe  a  spirit ;  the  characters  we  read  speak  a  lan- 
guage which,  mysterious  and  obscurely  intelligible  as 
they  are,  draw  us  on  with  an  eager  and  undefined 
desire.  In  shapes  and  sounds  of  fear ;  in  naked  crags, 
gulfs,  precipices,  torrents  that  have  rage  without 
beauty,  desolate  places ;  there  is  to  that  temper  of 
mind  an  attractive  power.  All  speak  in  some  way  to 

16 


242  SUCCESS. 

the  spirit,  and  raise  up  in  it  new  and  hidden  emotion, 
which,  even  when  mingled  with  pain,  it  is  glad  to 
feel ;  for  such  emotion  makes  discovery  to  it  of  its 
own  nature,  and  the  interest  it  feels  so  strongly 
springs  up  from  and  returns  into  itself. 

Of  all  occupations,  that  of  agriculture  is  best  calcu- 
lated to  induce  love  of  country,  and  rivet  it  firmly  on 
the  heart.  No  profession  is  more  honorable,  none  as 
conducive  to  health,  peace,  tranquility  and  happiness. 
More  independent  than  any  other  calling,  it  is  calcu- 
lated to  produce  an  innate  love  'of  liberty.  The  farmer 
stands  upon  a  lofty  eminence,  and  looks  upon  the 
bustle  of  cities,  the  intricacies  of  mechanism,  the  din 
of  commerce,  and  brain-confusing,  body-killing  litera- 
ture, with  feelings  of  personal  freedom,  peculiarly  his 
own.  He  delights  in  the  prosperity  of  the  city  as  his 
market  place,  acknowledges  the  usefulness  of  the 
mechanic,  admires  the  enterprise  of  the  commercial 
man,  and  rejoices  in  the  benefits  that  flow  from  the 
untiring  investigations  and  developments  of  .science ; 
then  turns  his  thoughts  to  the  pristine  quiet  of  his 
agrarian  domain,  and  covets  not  the  fame  that  accu- 
mulates around  the  other  professions. 


TWENTY  clerks  in  a  store ;  twenty  hands  in  a  print- 
ing office ;  twenty  apprentices  in  a  shipyard ;  twenty 
young  men  in  a  village  —  all  want  to  get  on  in  the 


SUCCESS.  243 

world,  and  expect  to  succeed.  One  of  the  clerks  will 
become  a  partner  and  make  a  fortune ;  one  of  the 
compositors  will  own  a  newspaper  and  become  an 
influential  citizen  ;  one  of  the  apprentices  will  become 
a  master  builder ;  one  of  the  young  villagers  will  get 
a  handsome  farm  and  live  like  a  patriarch  —  but  which 
one  is  the  lucky  individual  ?  Lucky  !  there  is  no  luck 
about  it.  The  thing  is  almost  as  certain  as  the  Rule 
of  Three.  The  young  fellow  who  will  distance  his 
competitors  is  he  who  masters  his  business,  who 
preserves  his  integrity,  who  lives  cleanly  and  purely, 
who  devotes  his  leisure  hours  to  the  acquisition  of 
knowledge,  who  never  gets  into  debt,  who  gains 
friends  by  deserving  them,  and  who  saves  his  spare 
money.  There  are  some  ways  to  fortune  shorter 
than  this  old  dusty  highway  —  but  the  staunch  men 
of  the  community,  the  men  who  achieve  something 
really  worth  having,  good  fortune  and  serene  old  age, 
all  go  on  in  this  road. 

We  hear  a  great  deal  about  "good  luck"  and  "bad 
luck."  If  a  person  has  prospered  in  business,  he  is 
said  to  have  had  "good  luck."  If  he  has  failed,  he 
has  had  "bad  luck."  If  he  has  been  sick,  good  or 
bad  luck  is  said  to  have  visited  him,  accordingly  as 
hej  got  well  or  died.  Or,  if  he  has  remained  in  good 
health,  while  others  have  been  attacked  by  some 
epidemic  disease,  he  has  had  the  "good  luck  to  escape 
that  with  which  others  have  had  the  "bad  luck"  to 
be  seized.  Good  or  bad  luck  is,  in  most  cases,  but  a 
synonym  for  good  or  bad  judgment.  The  prudent, 
the  considerate,  and  the  circumspect  seldom  complain 
of  ill  luck. 


244  SUCCESS. 

We  do  not  know  anything  which  more  fascinates 
youth  than  what,  for  want  of  a  better  word,  we  may 
call  brilliancy.  Gradually,  however,  this  peculiar 
kind  of  estimation  changes  very  much.  It  is  no  lon- 
ger those  who  are  brilliant,  those  who  affect  to  do 
the  most  and  the  best  work  with  the  least  apparent 
pains  and  trouble,  whom  we  are  most  inclined  to 
admire.  We  eventually  come  to  admire  labor,  and  to 
respect  it  the  more,  the  more  openly  it  is  proclaimed 
by  the  laborious  man  to  be  the  cause  of  his  success, 
if  he  has  any  success  to  boast  of. 

A  great  moral  safeguard  is  the  habit  of  industry. 
This  promotes  our  happiness ;  and  so  leaves  no  crav- 
ings for  those  vices  which  lead  on  and  down  to  sin 
and  its  untold  miseries.  Industry  conducts  to  pros- 
perity. Fortunes  may,  it  is  true,  be  won  in  a  day ; 
but  may  also  be  lost  in  a  day.  It  is  only  the  hand 
of  the  diligent  that  makes  one  premanently  rich. 
The  late  Mr.  Ticknor,  of  Boston,  a  model  merchant 
and  publisher,  in  his  last  hours  spoke  of  the  value  of 
a  steady  pursuit  of  one's  legitimate  business.  He 
commented  on  the  insane  traffic  in  gold  at  that 
moment,  as  ruinous  to  the  country  and  the  parties 
engaged  in  it.  "The  pathway  of  its  track,"  said  he, 
"is  strewn  with  wrecks  of  men  and  fortunes;  but  few 
have  failed  of  success  who  were  honest,  earnest,  and 
patient."  He  attributed  his  own  success  to  his  cling- 
ing to  his  resolution  to  avoid  all  speculations,  and 
steadily  pursuing  the  business  of  his  choice.  He  had 
been  bred  to  the  trade  of  a  broker ;  but  thought  it  as 
dangerous  as  the  lottery  and  dice.  And  no  young 


SUCCESS.  245 

man  could  fail  to  be  warned  by  him,  who  had  seen 
the  frenzy  that  conies  over  the  "Brokers'  Board." 
"A  Babel  of  conflicting  sounds — a  hot  oven  of  excite- 
ment" is  that  board;  it  is  a  moral  storm  which  few 
can  withstand  long.  How  much  wiser  is  he  who 
keeps  out  of  this  whirlpool,  content  with  an  honest 
calling  and  reasonable  gains. 

Who  are  the  successful  men  ?  They  are  those  who 
when  boys  were  compelled  to  work  either  to  help 
themselves  or  their  parents,  and  who  when  a  little 
older  were  under  the  stern  necessity  of  doing  more 
than  their  legitimate  share  of  labor;  who  as  young 
men  had  their  wits  sharpened  by  having  to  devise 
ways  and  means  of  making  their  time  more  available 
than  it  would  be  under  ordinary  circumstances. 
Hence  in  reading  the*  lives  of  eminent  men  who  have 
greatly  distinguished  themselves,  we  find  their  youth 
passed  in  self-denials  of  food,  sleep,  rest,  and  recrea- 
tion. They  sat  up  late,  rose  early,  to  the  performance 
of  imperative  duties,  doing  by  daylight  the  work  of 
one  man,  and  by  night  that  of  another.  Said  a 
gentleman,  the  other  day,  now  a  private  banker  of 
high  integrity,  and  who  started  in  life  without  a  dollar, 
"For  years  I  was  in  my  place  of  business  by  sunrise, 
and  often  did  not  leave  it  for  fifteen  or  eighteen 
hours."  Let  not,  then,  any  youth  be  discouraged  if 
he  has  to  make  his  own  living,  or  even  to  support  a 
widowed  mother,  or  sick  sister,  or  unfortunate  rela- 
tive ;  for  this  has  been  the  road  to  eminence  of  many 
a  proud  name.  This  is  the  path  which  printers  ;»nd 
teachers  have  often  trod — thorny  enough  at  times  at 


246  SUCCESS. 

others  so*beset  with  obstacles  as  to  be  almost  impas- 
sible ;  but  the  way  was  cleared,  sunshine  came,  success 
followed  —  then  the  glory  and  renown. 

The  secret  of  one's  success  or  failure  in  nearly 
every  enterprise  is  usually  contained  in  answer  to  the 
question :  How  earnest  is  he  ?  Success  is  the  child 
of  confidence  and  perseverance.  The  talent  of  suc- 
cess is  simply  doing-  what  you  can  do  well,  and  doing- 
well  whatever  you  do  —  without  a  thought  of  fame. 
Fame  never  comes  because  it  is  craved.  Success  is 
the  best  test  of  capacity.  Success  is  not  always  a 
proper  criterion  for  judging  a  man's  character.  It  is 
certain  that  success  naturally  confirms  us  in  a  favor- 
able opinion  of  ourselves.  Success  in  life  consists  in 
the  proper  and  harmonious  development  of  those 
faculties  which  God  has  given  us. 

Be  thrifty  that  you  may  have  wherewith  to  be 
charitable.  He  that  labors  and  thrives  spins  gold. 

We  are  familiar  with  people  who  whine  continually 
at  fate.  To  believe  them,  never  was  a  lot  so  hard  as 
theirs ;  yet  those  who  know  their  history  will  gener- 
ally tell  you  that  their  life  has  been  but  one  long  tale 
of  opportunities  disregarded,  or  misfortunes  other- 
wise deserved.  Perhaps  they  were  born  poor.  In. 
this  case  they  hate  the  rich,  and  have  always  hated 
them,  but  without  ever  having  emulated  their  pru- 
dence or  energy.  Perhaps  they  have  seen  their  rivals 
more  favored  by  accident.  In  this  event  they  forget 
how  many  have  been  less  lucky  than  themselves ;  so 
they  squandered  their  little,  because,  as  they  say,  they 
cannot  save  as  much  as  others.  Irritated  at  life,  they- 


SUCCESS.  247 

grow  old  prematurely.  Dissatisfied  with  everything, 
they  never  permit  themselves  to  be  happy.  Because 
they  are  not  born  at  the  top  of  the  wheel  of  fortune, 
they  refuse  to  take  hold  of  the  spoke  as  the  latter 
comes  around,  but  lie  stubborn  to  the  dirt,  crying  like 
spoiled  children,  neither  doing  anything  themselves, 
nor  permitting  others  to  do  it  for  them. 

Some  men  make  a  mistake  in  marrying.  They  do 
not  in  this  matter  begin  right.  Have  they  their  for- 
tunes still  to  make  ?  Too  often,  instead  of  seeking 
one  who  would  be  a  helpmate  in  the  true  sense  of  the 
term,  they  unite  themselves  to  a  giddy,  improvident 
creature,  with  nothing  to  recommend  her  but  the  face 
of  a  doll  and  a  few  showy  accomplishments.  Such  a 
wife,  they  discover  too  late,  neither  makes  home 
happy  nor  helps  to  increase  her  husband's  means. 
At  first,  thriftless,  extravagant  and  careless,  she 
gradually  becomes  cross  and  reproachful,  and  while 
she  envies  other  women,  and  reproaches  her  husband 
because  he  cannot  afford  to  maintain  her  like  them, 
is  really  the  principal  cause  of  his  ill-fortune.  The 
selection  of  a  proper  companion  is  one  of  the  most 
important  concerns  of  life.  A  well-assorted  marriage 
assists,  instead  of  retarding,  a  man's  prosperity. 
Select  a  sensible,  agreeable,  amiable  woman,  and  you 
will  have  secured  a  prize  "better  than  riches."  If 
you  do  otherwise,  then,  alas  for  you'! 

Treat  every  one  with  respect  and  civility.  "  Every- 
thing is  gained,  and  nothing  lost,  by  courtesy." 
"Good  manners  secure  success."  Never  anticipate 
wealth  from  any  other  source  than  labor.  "  He  who 


248  SUCCESS.  • 

waits  for  dead  men's  shoes  may  have  to  go  a  long- 
time barefoot."  And  above  all,  "  Nil  desperandiim" 
for  "Heaven  helps  those  who  help  themselves."  If 
you  implicitly  follow  these  precepts,  nothing-  can 
hinder  you  from  accumulating.  Let  the  business  of 
everybody  else  alone,  and  attend. to  your  own;  don't 
buy  what  you  don't  want;  use  every  hour  to  advan- 
tage, and  study  to  make  even  leisure  hours  useful ; 
think  twice  before  you  throw  away  a  shilling; 
remember  you  will  have  another  to  make  for  it ;  find 
recreation  in  your  own  business ;  buy  low,  sell  fair, 
and  take  care  of  the  profits ;  look  over  your  books 
regularly,  and,  if  you  find  an  error,  trace  it  out; 
should  a  stroke  of  misfortune  come  over  your  trade, 
retrench,  work  harder,  but  never  fly  the  track ;  con- 
front difficulties  with  unceasing  perseverance,  and 
they  will  disappear  at  last ;  though  you  should  fail  in 
the  struggle,  you  will  be  honored ;  but  shrink  from 
the  task  and  you  will  be  despised. 

Engage  in  one  kind  of  business  only,  and  stick  to 
it  faithfully  until  you  succeed,  or  until  your  experi- 
ence shows  that  you  should  abandon  it.  A  constant 
hammering  on  one  nail  will  generally  drive  it  home 
at  last,  so  that  it  can  be  clinched.  When  a  man's 
undivided  attention  is  centred  on  one  object,  his  mind 
will  constantly  be  suggesting  improvements  of  value, 
which  would  escape  him  if  his  brain  were  occupied  by 
a  dozen  different  subjects  at  once.  Many  a  fortune 
has  slipped  through  a  man's  fingers  because  he  was 
engaging  in  too  many  occupations  at  a  time.  There 
is  good  sense  in  the  old  caution  against  having  too 
many  irons  in  the  fire  at  once. 


SUCCESS.  249 

"At  thy  first  entrace  upon  thy  estate,"  once  said  a 
wise  man,  "keep  low  sail,  that  thou  mayst  rise  with 
honor ;  thou  canst  not  decline  without  shame ;  he  that 
begins  where  his  father  ends,  will  end  where  his  father 
began." 

Everywhere  in  human  experience,  as  frequently  in 
nature,  hardship  is  the  vestibule  of  the  highest  suc- 
cess. That  magnificent  oak  was  detained  twenty 
years  in  its  upward  growth  while  its  roots  took  a  great 
turn  around  a  boulder  by  which  the  tree  was  anchored 
to  withstand  the  storms  of  centuries. 

In  our  intercourse  with  the  world  a  cautious  cir- 
cumspection is  of  great  advantage.  Slowness  of 
belief,  and  a  proper  distrust,  are  essential  to  success. 
The  credulous  and  confiding  are  ever  the  dupes  of 
knaves  and  impostors.  Ask  those  who  have  lost 
their  property  how  it  happened,  and  you  will  find  in 
most  cases  it  has  been  owing  to  misplaced  confidence. 
One  has  lost  by  indorsing;  another  by  crediting; 
another  by  false  representations ;  all  of  which  a  little 
more  foresight  and  a  little  more  distrust  would  have 
prevented.  In  the  affairs  of  this  world  men  are  not 
saved  by  faith,  but  by  the  want  of  it. 

They  who  are  eminently  successful  in  business,  or 
who  achieve  greatness,  or  even  notoriety  in  any  pur- 
suit, must  expect  to  make  enemies.  Whoever  be- 
comes distinguished  is  sure  to  be  a  mark  for  the 
malicious  spite  of  those  who,  not  deserving  success 
themselves,  are  galled  by  the  merited  triumph  of  the 
more  worthy.  Moreover,  the  opposition  which  orig- 
inates in  such  despicable  motives,  is  sure  to  be  of  the 


250  INDUSTRY. 

most  unscrupulous  character  ;  hesitating  at  no  iniquity, 
descending  to  the  shabbiest  littleness.  Opposition, 
if  it  be  honest  and  manly,  is  not  in  itself  undesirable. 
It  is  the  whetstone  by  which  a  highly  tempered  nature 
is  polished  and  sharpened.  He  that  has  never  known 
adversity,  is  but  half  acquainted  with  others  or  with 
himself.  Constant  success  shows  us  but  one  side  of 
the  world.  For,  as  it  surrounds  us  with  friends,  who 
will  tell  us  only  our  merits,  so  it  silences  those  ene- 
mies from  whom  alone  we  can  learn  our  defects. 


OUR  success  in  life  generally  bears  a  direct  pro- 
portion to  the  exertions  we  make,  and  if  we  aim  at 
nothing  we  shall  certainly  achieve  nothing.  By  the 
remission  of  labor  and  energy,  it  often  happens  that 
poverty  and  contempt,  disaster  and  defeat,  steal  a 
march  upon  prosperity  and  honor,  and  overwhelm  us 
with  reverses  and  shame. 

A  very  important  principle  in  the  business  of 
money-getting,  is  industry  —  persevering,  indefatiga- 
ble attention  to  business.  Persevering  diligence  is 
the  philosopher's  stone,  which  .turns  everything  to 
gold.  Constant,  regular,  habitual,  and  systematic 
application  to  business,  must,  in  time,  if  properly 
directed,  produce  great  results.  It  must  lead  to 
wealth,  with  the  same  certainty  that  poverty  follows 
in  the  train  of  idleness  and  inattention. 


INDUSTRY.  251 

It  has  been  said  that  the  best  cure  for  hard  times 
is  to  cheat  the  doctor  by  being  temperate  ;  the  lawyer, 
by  keeping  out  of  debt ;  the  demagogue,  by  voting 
for  honest  men  ;  and  poverty,  by  being  industrious. 

To  industry,  guided  by  reasonable  intelligence  and 
economy,  every  people  can  look  with  certainty  as  an 
unfailing  source  of  temporal  prosperity.  Whatever 
is  useful  or  beautiful  in  art,  science  or  other  human 
attainment,  has  come  from  industry.  In  the  humblest 
pursuits,  industry  may  be  accompanied  by  the  noblest 
intelligence,  so  that  respect,  place  and  power  are 
open  to  its  humblest  honest  practicer.  Let  no  man 
spurn  industry  as  his  temporal  shield ;  it  is  the  safest 
and  surest  he  can  buckle  to  his  arm,  and  with  it  he 
may  defy  the  want  and  poverty  which,  more  than 
everything  else,  destroy  the  independence  of  man. 

Honorable  industry  always  travels  the  same  road 
with  enjoyment  and  duty ;  and  progress  is  altogether 
impossible  without  it.  The  idle  pass  through  life 
leaving  as  little  trace  of  their  existence  as  foam  upoa 
the  water,  or  smoke  upon  the  air ;  whereas  the  indus- 
trious stamp  their  character  upon  their  age,  and  influ- 
ence not  only  their  own  but  all  succeeding  generations. 
Labor  is  the  best  test  of  the  energies  of  men,  and 
furnishes  an  admirable  training  for  practical  wisdom. 

Practical  industry,  wisely  and  vigorously  applied, 
never  fails  of  success.  It  carries  a  maa  onward  and 
upward,  brings  out  his  individual  character,  and 
powerfully  stimulates  the  action  of  others.  All  may 
not  rise  equally,  yet  each,  on  the  whole,  very  much 
according  to  his  deserts.  "Though  all  cannot  live 


252  INDUSTRY. 

on  the  piazza.,"  as  the  Tuscan  proverb  has  it,  "every 
one  may  feel  the  sun." 

Industry  is  the  heir  of  fortune ;  the  companion  of 
honesty  and  honor ;  the  beauteous  sister  of  temper- 
ance, health  and  ease  —  one  of  the  noble  virtues 
which  links  with  perfection. 

Industry  has  a  physical  blessing;  limbs  strength- 
ened by  exercise,  and  sinews  braced  by  exertion ; 
•every  organ  performing  its  legitimate  duty,  and  kept 
in  its  appointed  office ;  the  blood  circulated  by  motion, 
and  the  joints  pliant  from  use ;  disease  repelled  by 
internal  vigor;  appetite  created  by  the  calls  of 
increasing  strength ;  rest  rendered  welcome  by  pre- 
vious labor;  sleep  become  acceptable  after  busy 
working.  The  habit,  free  from  the  petty  ailments 
entailed  by  sluggishness,  no  longer  falls  a  prey  to 
peevishness  and  irritation,  and  time  employed,  not 
wasted  in  murmurs  and  discontent.  The  temper,  less 
tried  by  bodily  infirmity  and  secret  upbraidings, 
acquires  equanimity.  The  spirits,  unharrassed  by 
petty  pains  and  plagues,  rise  to  cheerfulness.  The 
faculties,  unimpaired  by  disease,  unblunted  by  disuse, 
more  vigorously  expand.  The  whole  man,  active, 
useful,  and  happy,  is  enabled  to  resist  the  approaches 
of  infirmity,  sickness,  and  sorrow ;  to  enjoy  a  vigorous 
old  age,  and  to  drop  after  a  brief  struggle  his  mortal 
frame,  to  soar  with  improved  powers  iqto  a  state  of 
improved  being.  While  in  idleness,  the  disordered 
Irame,  gradually  sickening,  oppresses  the  vital  pow- 
ers. The  mind,  weakened  and  stupefied,  imbibes 
wild  or  gloomy  ideas ;  the  better  faculties  are  crushed 


INDUSTRY.  253 

and  curbed,  and  the  whole  man  at  last  sinks  beneath 
the  undermining  mischiefs  of  insidious  sloth. 

Is  this  a  wretched  picture  ?  Whilst  we  feel  that 
though  it  is  so,  it  is  also  a  true  one,  let  us  gratefully 
remember,  that  such  a  state  is  not  inevitable,  but  that 
it  is  one  incurred  from  choice,  and  produced  by  volun- 
tary permission.  Reverse  the  picture,  extirpate  sloth, 
and  in  its  place  introduce  activity,  and  how  mighty  is 
the  difference?  The  wand  of  Harlequin  could  never 
produce  a  more  striking  change. 

In  vain  has  nature  thrown  obstacles  and  impedi- 
ments in  the  way  of  man.  He  surmounts  every  diffi- 
culty interposed  between  his  energy  and  his  enterprise. 
Over  seas  and  mountains  his  course  is  unchecked; 
he  directs  the  lightning's  wings,  and  almost  annihi- 
lates space  and  time.  Oceans,  rivers,  and  deserts 
are  explored  ;  hills  are  leveled,  and  the  rugged  places 
made  smooth.  "On  the  hardest  adamant  some  foot- 
print of  us  is  stamped  in."  The  soil  teems  with 
fertility,  and  under  the  cunning  and  diligent  hand  of 
his  taste  and  skill,  the  whole  earth  is  beautified  and 
improved. 

The  stimulus  of  a  painful  necessity  urges  man  to 
ceaseless  effort,  and  the  world  is  filled  with  monu- 
ments and  memorials  of  his  industry,  his  zeal,  his 
patient  labor,  his  masterly  spirit,  and  his  indomitable 
perseverance. 

"  All  is  the  gift  of  industry  :  whate'er 
Exalts,  embellishes,  and  readers  life 
Delightful." 


254  HONESTY. 


THE  first  step  toward  greatness  is  to  be  honest, 
says  the  proverb ;  but  the  proverb  fails  to  state  the 
case  strong  enough.  Honesty  is  not  only  the  first 
step  toward  greatness  —  it  is  greatness  itself. 

It  is  with  honesty  in  one  particular  as  with  wealth ; 
those  that  have  the  thing  care  less  about  the  credit  of 
it  than  those  that  have  it  not.  What  passes  as  open- 
faced  honesty  is  often  masked  malignity.  He  who 
saith  there  is  no  such  thing  as  an  honest  man,  you 
may  be  sure  is  himself  a  knave.  When  any  one 
complains,  as  Diogenes  did,  that  he  has  to  hunt  the 
street  with  candles  at  noon-day  to  find  an  honest 
man,  we  are  apt  to  think  that  his  nearest  neighbor 
would  have  quite  as  much  difficulty  as  himself  in 
making  the  discovery.  If  you  think  there  isn't  an 
honest  man  living,  you  had  better,  for  appearance 
sake,  put  off  saying  it  until  you  are  dead  yourself. 
Honesty  is  the  best  policy,  but  those  who  do  honest 
things  merely  because  they  think  it  good  policy,  are 
not  honest.  No  man  has  ever  been  too  honest. 
Cicero  believed  that  nothing  is  useful  that  is  not 
honest.  He  that  walketh  uprightly,  walketh  surely  ; 
but  he  that  perverteth  his  ways  shall  be  known. 
There  is  an  alchemy  in  a  high  heart  which  transmutes 
other  things  to  its  own  quality. 

The  truth  of  the  good  old  maxim,  that  "Honesty 
is  the  best  policy,"  is  upheld  by  the  daily  experience 


HONESTY.  255 

of  life ;  uprightness  and  integrity  being  found  as 
successful  in  business  as  in  everything  else.  As 
Hugh  Miller's  worthy  uncle  used  to  advise  him, 
"In  all  your  dealings  give  your  neighbor  the  cast 
of  the  bank  —  'good  measure,  heaped  up,  and 
running  over' — and  you  will  not  lose  by  it  in  the 
end." 

Honesty  is  the  best  policy.  But  no  man  can  be 
upright,  amid  the  various  temptations  of  life,  unless 
he  is  honest  for  the  right's  sake.  You  should  not  be 
honest  from  the  low  motive  of  policy,  but  because 
you  feel  the  better  for  being  honest.  The  latter  will 
hold  you  fast,  let  the  element  set  as  it  will,  let  storms 
blow  ever  so  fiercely ;  the  former  is  but  a  cable  of 
pack-thread,  which  will  snap  apart.  In  the  long 
run,  character  is  better  than  capital.  Most  of  the 
great  American  merchants,  whose  revenues  out- 
rank those  of  princes,  owe  their  colossal  fortunes 
principally  to  a  character  for  integrity  and  ability. 
Lay  the  foundations  of  a  character  broad  and 
deep.  Build  them  on  a  rock,  and  not  on  sand.  The 
rains  may  then  descend,  the  floods  rise  arj.d  the  winds 
blow,  but  your  house  will  stand.  But,  establish  a 
character  for  loose  dealings,  and  lo !  some  great  tern 
pest  will  sweep  it  away. 

The  religious  tradesman  complains  that  his  hon- 
esty is  a  hindrance  to  his  success ;  that  the  tide  of 
custom  pours  into  the  doors  of  his  less  scrupulous 
neighbors  in  the  same  street,  while  he  himself  waits  for 
hours  idle.  My  brother,  do  you  think  that  God  is 
going  to  reward  honor,  integrity  and  high-mindedness 


256  HONESTY. 

with  this  world's  coin  ?  Do  you  fancy  that  he  will 
pay  spiritual  excellence  with  plenty  of  custom  ?  Now 
consider  the  price  that  man  has  paid  for  his  success 
—  perhaps  mental  degradation  and  inward  dishonor. 
His  advertisements  are  all  deceptive ;  his  treatment 
of  his  workmen  tyrannical;  his  cheap  prices  made 
possible  by  inferior  articles.  Sow  that  man's  seed,, 
and  y6u  will  reap  that  man's  harvest.  Cheat,  lie,, 
advertise,  be  unscrupulous  in  your  assertions,  custom 
will  come  to  you ;  but  if  the  price  is  too  dear,  let  him. 
have  his  harvest,  and  take  yours.  Yours  is  a  clear 
conscience,  a  pure  mind,  rectitude  within  and  without. 
Will  you  part  with  that  for  his  ?  Then  why  do  you 
complain  ?  He  has  paid  his  price ;  you  do  not  choose 
to  pay  it. 

Some,  in  their  passion  for  sudden  accumulation, 
practice  secret  frauds,  and  imagine  there  is  no  harm 
in  it,  so  they  be  not  detected.  But  in  vain  will  they 
cover  up  their  transgressions ;  for  God  sees  it  to  the 
bottom ;  and  let  them  not  hope  to  keep  it  always  from 
man.  The  birds  of  the  air  sometimes  carry  the  tale 
abroad.  In  the  long  web  of  events,  "be  sure  your 
sin  will  find  you  out."  He  who  is  carrying  on  a 
course  of  latent  corruption  and  dishonesty,  be  he 
president  of  some  mammoth  corporation,  or  engaged 
only  in  private  transactions,  is  sailing1  in  a  ship  like 
that  fabled  one  of  old,  which  ever  comes  nearer  and 
nearer  to  a  magnetic  mountain,  that  will  at  last  draw 
every  nail  out  of  it.  All  faith  in  God,  and  all  trust 
in  man  will  eventually  be  lost,  and  he  will  get  no 
reward  for  his  guilt.  The  very  winds  will  sigh  forth 


HONESTY.  257 

his  iniquity;  and  "a  beam  will  come  out  of  the  wall," 
and  convict  and  smite  him. 

Strict  honesty  is  the  crown  of  one's  early  days. 
"Your  son  will  not  do  for  me,"  was  once  said  to  a 
friend  of  mine;  "he  took  pains,  the  other  day,  to  tell 
a.  customer  of  a  small  blemish  in  a  piece  of  goods." 
The  salesboy  is  sometimes  virtually  taught  to  declare 
that  goods  cost  such  or  such  a  sum ;  that  they  are 
strong,  fashionable,  perfect,  when  the  whole  story  is 
false.  So  is  the  bloom  of  a  God-inspired  truthfulness 
not  seldom  brushed  from  the  cheek  of  our  simple- 
hearted  children. 

We  hope  and  trust  these  cases  are  rare ;  but  even 
one  such  house  as  we  allude  to,  may  ruin  the  integrity 
and  the  fair  fame  of  many  a  lad.  God  grant  our 
young  men  to  feel  that  "an  honest  man  is  the  noblest 
work  of  God,"  and,  under  all  temptations,  to  live  as 
they  feel. 

The  possession  of  the  principle  of  honesty  is  a 
matter  known  most  intimately  to  the  man  and  his  God, 
and  fully,  only  to  the  latter.  No  man  knows  the 
extent  and  strength  of  his  own  honesty,  until  he  has 
passed  the  fiery  ordeal  of  temptation.  Men  shudder 
at  the  dishonesty  of  others,  at  one  time  in  life ;  then, 
sailing  before  the  favorable  wind  of  prosperity,  when 
adversity  overtakes  them,  their  honesty  too  often  flies 
away  on  the  same  wings  with  their  riches ;  and,  what 
they  once  viewed  with  holy  horror,  they  now  practice 
with  shameless  impunity.  Others,  at  the  commence- 
ment of  a  prosperous  career,  are  quite  above  any 
tricks  in  trade ;  but  their  love  of  money  increases 
with  their  wealth,  their  honesty  relaxes,  they  become 


258  HONESTY. 

hard  honest  men,  then  hardly  honest,  and  are,  finally, 
confirmed  in  dishonesty. 

On  the  great  day  of  account,  it  will  be  found,  that 
men  have  erred  more  in  judging  of  the  honesty  of 
others  than  in  any  one  thing  else ;  not  even  religion 
excepted.  Many  who  have  been  condemned,  and  had 
the  stigma  of  dishonesty  fixed  upon  them,  because 
misfortune  disabled  them  from  paying  their  just  debts, 
will  stand  acquitted  by  the  Judge  of  quick  and  dead, 
whilst  others  cover  dishonest  hearts  and  actions, 
undetected  by  man. 

It  is  our  earnest  desire  to  eradicate  the  impression, 
so  fatal  to  many  a  young  man,  that  one  cannot  live 
by  being  perfectly  honest.  You  must  have  known 
men  who  have  gone  on  for  years  in  unbroken  pros- 
perity and  yet  never  adopted  that  base  motto,  "All 
is  fair  in  trade."  You  must  have  seen,  too,  noble 
examples  of  those  who  have  met  with  losses  and 
failures,  and  yet  risen  from  them  all  with  a  conscious 
integrity,  and  who  have  been  sustained  by  the  testi- 
mony of  all  around  them,  that,  though  unfortunate, 
they  were  never  dishonest.  When  we  set  before  you 
such  examples,  when  we  show  you,  not  only  that 
"honesty  is  the  best  policy,"  but  that  it  is  the  very 
keystone  of  the  whole  arch  of  manly  and  Christian 
qualities,  it  cannot  be  that  every  ingenuous  heart 
does  not  respond  to  the  appeal.  Heaven  grant  all 
such  to  feel  that  "an  honest  man  is  the  noblest  work 
God,"  and  to  live  as  they  feel. 


CHARACTER.  25v 


THERE  is  a  structure  which  every  body  is  building", 
young-  and  old,  each  one  for  himself.  It  is  called 
character,  and  every  act  of  life  is  a  stone.  If  day 
by  day  we  be  careful  to  build  our  lives  with  pure, 
noble,  upright  deeds,  at  the  end  will  stand  a  fair 
temple,  honored  by  God  and  man.  But,  as  one  leak 
will  sink  a  ship,  and  one  flaw  break  a  chain,  so  one 
mean,  dishonorable,  untruthful  act  or  word  will  for- 
ever leave  its  impress  and  work  its  influence  on  our 
characters.  Then,  let  the  several  deeds  unite  to  form 
a  day,  and  one  by  one  the  days  grow  into  noble  years, 
and  the  years,  as  they  slowly  pass,  will  raise  at  last  a 
beautiful  edifice,  enduring  forever  to  our  praise. 

There  are  as  many  master-workmen  in  you  as 
there  are  separate  faculties ;  and  there  are  as  many 
blows  struck  as  there  are  separate  acts  of  emotion 
or  volition.  Every  single  day  these  myriad  forces 
are  building,  building,  building.  Here  is  a  great 
structure  going  up,  point  by  point,  story  by  story, 
although  you  are  not  conscious  of  it.  It  is  a  building 
of  character.  It  is  a  building  that  must  stand,  and 
the  word  of  inspiration  warns  you  to  take  heed  how 
you  build  it ;  to  see  to  it  that  you  have  a  foundation 
that  shall  endure ;  to  make  sure  that  you  are  building 
on  it,  not  for  the  hour  in  which  you  live,  but  for  that 
hour  of  revelation,  when  you  shall  be  seen  just  as 
you  are. 

Our  minds   are   given  us,   but  our  characters  we 


2(30  CHARACTER. 

make.  Our  mental  powers  must  be  cultivated.  The 
full  measure  of  all  the  powers  necessary  to  make  a 
man  are  no  more  a  character  than  a  handful  of  seeds 
is  an  orchard  of  fruits.  Plant  the  seeds  and  tend 
them  well,  and  they  will  make  an  orchard.  Cultivate 
the  powers  and  harmonize  them  well,  and  they  will 
make  a  noble  character.  The  germ  is  not  the  tree, 
the  acorn  is  not  the  oak,  neither  is  the  mind  a 
character.  God  gives  the  mind,  man  makes  the  char- 
acter. The  mind  is  the  garden ;  the  character  is  the 
fruit ;  the  mind  is  the  white  page  ;  the  character  is  the 
writing  we  put  on  it.  The  mind  is  the  metallic  plate ; 
the  character  is  our  engraving  thereon..  The  mind  is 
the  shop,  the  counting-room ;  the  character  is  our 
profits  on  the  trade.  Large  profits  are  made  from 
quick  sales  and  small  per  centage.  So  great  charac- 
ters are  made  by  many  little  acts  and  efforts.  A 
dollar  is  composed  of  a  thousand  mills ;  so  is  a  char- 
acter of  a  thousand  thoughts  and  acts.  The  secret 
thoughts  never  expressed,  the  inward  indulgences  in 
imaginary  wrong;  the  lie  never  told  for  want  of 
courage,  the  licentiousness  never  indulged  in  from 
fear  of  public  rebuke,  the  irreverence  of  the  heart, 
are  just  as  effectual  in  staining  the  character  as  though 
the  world  knew  all  about  them.  A  subtle  thing  is  a 
character;  and  a  constant  work  is  its  formation. 
Whether  it  be  good  or  bad,  it  has  been  long  in 
its  growth,  and  is  the  aggregate  of  millions  of  little 
mental  acts.  A  good  character  is  a  precious  thing, 
above  rubies,  gold,  crowns,  or  kingdoms,  and  the 
work  of  making  it  is  the  noblest  labor  on  earth. 


CHARACTER.  261 

Character  is  formed  by  a  course  of  actions,  and 
not  actions  by  character.  A  person  can  have  no 
character  before  he  has  had  actions.  Though  an 
action  be  ever  so  glorious  in  itself,  it  ought  not  to 
pass  for  great,  if  it  be  not  the  effect  of  wisdom  and 
good  design.  Great  actions  carry  their  glory  with 
them  as  the  ruby  wears  its  colors.  Whatever  be 
your  condition  or  calling  in  life,  keep  in  view  the 
whole  of  your  existence.  Act  not  for  the  little  span 
of  time  allotted  you  in  this  world,  but  act  for  eternity. 

Characters  formed  by  circumstances  are  much  like 
machine  poetry.  They  will  do  for  the  sport  of  mirth, 
and  the  torment  of  the  senses  of  the  beautiful.  But 
they  are  horrible  things.  It  makes  angels  weep  to 
look  at  them.  They  are  the  picture  of  old  chaos,  a 
mass  of  confusion.  A  thousand  winds  have  blown 
together  the  materials  of  which  they  are  made. 
They  usually  lack  order,  harmony,  consistency,  and 
beauty,  the  very  elements  and  essentials  of  a  good 
character.  They  are  those  aimless  nuisances  that 
live  for  nothing,  and  molder,  and  become  putrid, 
about  the  sewers  of  the  world.  If  aught  on  earth  is 
despicable,  it  is  these  porous  masses  of  conglomerated 
filth  and  scum  that  float  on  the  surface  of  society, 
driven  or  attracted  by  every  speck  of  circumstance 
about  them.  They  are  purposeless,  powerless,  ener- 
vated automatons,  playing  second  fiddle  to  chance. 
One  brave  will  to  resist  evil  and  hold  fast  to  good,  is 
worth  a  million  of  them.  One  stout  soul,  with  a  reso- 
lute determination  to  make  its  own  character,  after  the 
pattern  of  its  own  high-wrought  ideal,  that,  Jackson- 


262  CHARACTER. 

like,  takes  the  responsibility  of  being  what  suits  its 
well-formed  judgment,  is  of  more  real  significance 
than  an  army  of  them.  It  will  stand  against  them, 
and  defy  their  power. 

Every  man  is  bound  to  aim  at  the  possession  of  a 
good  character,  as  one  of  the  highest  objects  of  his 
life.  The  very  effort  to  secure  it  by  worthy  means 
will  furnish  him  with  a  motive  for  exertion ;  and  his 
idea  of  manhood,  in  proportion  as  it  is  elevated,  will 
steady  and  animate  his  motive.  It  is  well  to  have  a 
high  standard  of  life,  even  though  we  may  not  be 
able  altogether  to  realize  it.  "The  youth,"  says 
Disraeli,  "who  does  not  look  up  will  look  down;  and 
the  spirit  that  does  not  soar  is  destined,  perhaps,  to 
grovel."  He  who  has  a  high  standard  of  living  and 
thinking  will  certainly  do  better  than  he  who  has  none 
at  all.  We  would  have  young  men,  as  they  start  in 
life,  regard  character  as  a  capital,  much  surer  to  yield 
full  returns  than  any  other  capital,  unaffected  by 
panics  and  failures,  fruitful  when  all  other  investments 
lie  dormant,  having  as  certain  promise  in  the  present 
life  as  in  that  which  is  to  come.  Character  is  like 
stock  in  trade ;  the  more  of  it  a  man  possesses,  the 
greater  his  facilities  for  adding  to  it.  Character  is 
power,  is  influence :  it  makes  friends,  creates  funds, 
draws  patronage  and  support,  and  opens  a  sure  and 
easy  way  tci  wealth,  honor  and  happiness. 

Trifles  discover  a  character  more  than  actions  of 
importance.  In  regard  to  the  former,  a  person  is  off 
his  guard,  and  thinks  it  not  material  to  use  disguise. 
It  is  no  imperfect  hint  toward  the  discovery  of  a  man's 


CHARACTER.  263 

character  to  say  he  looks  as  though  you  might  be 
certain  of  finding  a  pin  upon  his  sleeve.  Truthful- 
ness is  a  corner-stone  in  character,  and  if  it  is  not 
firmly  laid  in  youth,  there  will  be  ever  after  a  weak 
spot  in  the  foundation. 

Sum  it  up  then  as  we  will,  character  is  the  great 
desideratum  of  human  life.  This  truth,  sublime  in 
its  simplicity  and  powerful  in  its  beauty,  is  the  high- 
est lesson  of  religion,  the  first  that  youth  should  learn, 
the  last  that  age  should  forget. 

The  value  of  character  is  the  standard  of  human 
progress.  The  individual,  the  community,  the  nation 
tells  its  standing,  its  advancement,  its  worth,  its  true 
wealth  and  glory  in  the  eye  of  God  by  its  estimation 
of  character.  That  man  or  nation  who  or  which 
lightly  esteems  character,  is  low,  groveling  and  bar- 
barous. Wherever  character  is  made  a  secondary 
object,  sensualism  and  crime  prevail.  He  who  would 
prostitute  character  to  reputation  is  base.  He  who 
lives  for  anything  less  than  character  is  mean.  He 
who  enters  upon  any  study,  pursuit,  amusement, 
pleasure,  habit,  or  course  of  life,  without  considering 
its  effect  upon  his  character,  is  not  a  trusty  or  an 
honest  man.  He  whose  modes  of  thought,  states  of 
feeling,  every-day  acts,  common  language,  and  whole 
outward  life,  are  not  directed  by  a  wise  reference  to 
their  influence  upon  his  character,  is  a  man  always  to 
be  watched.  Just  as  a  man  prizes  his  character,  so 
is  he.  This  is  the  true  standard  of  a  man. 


264  PRINCIPLE    AND    RIGHT. 


We  often  judge  unwisely.  We  approve  or  con- 
demn men  by  their  actions.  But  it  so  happens  that 
many  a  man  whom  we  condemn,  God  approves ;  and 
many  a  one  whom  we  approve,  God  condemns.  Here 
below  it  often  happens  that  we  have  saints  in  prisons 
and  devils  in  priestly  robes.  We  often  view  things 
under  a  false  sight,  and  pass  our  judgments  accord- 
ingly ;  but  God  judges  from  behind  the  veil,  where 
motives  reveal  themselves  like  lightnings  on  a  cloud. 

Now,  right  and  might  lie  in  motive.  Personally 
they  answer  the  question,  "Ought  I?"  and  "Can  I  ?" 
Some  men  ask,  "Ought  I  do  this?"  Others  ask, 
"Can  I  do  this?"  It  is  the  angel  that  asks,  "Ought 
I  to  do  this?"  It  is  the  devil  that  asks,  "Can  I  do 
this?" 

We  all  have  good  and  bad  in  us.  The  good  would 
do  what  it  ought  to  do ;  the  bad  does  what  it  can  do. 
The  good  dwells  in  the  kingdom  of  right ;  the  bad 
sits  on  the  throne  of  might.  Right  is  a  loyal  subject ; 
might  is  a  royal  tyrant.  Right  is  the  foundation  of 
the  river  of  peace ;  might  is  the  mother  of  war  and 
its  abominations.  Right  is  the  evangel  of  God  that 
proclaims  the  "acceptable  year  of  the  Lord;"  might 
is  the  scourge  of  the  world  that  riots  in  carnage, 
groans  and  blood.  Right  is  the  arm  of  freedom 
made  bare  and  beautiful  in  the  eyes  of  all  the  good 
in  heaven  and  earth ;  might  is  the  sword  of  power 
unsheathed  in  the  hand  of  oppression.  Right  gains 


PRINCIPLE    AND    RIGHT.  265 

its  victories  by  peace ;  might  conquers  only  by  war. 
Right  strengthens  its  army  by  the  increase  of  all  its 
conquered;  might  weakens  its  force  by  every  victory, 
as  a  part  of  its  power  must  stand  guard  over  its  new- 
made  subjects.  Right  rules  by  invitation  ;  might  by 
compulsion.  Right  is  from  above  ;  might  from  below  ; 
Right  is  unselfish ;  might  knows  nothing  but  self. 
Right  is  for  the  whole ;  might  is  for  one.  Right  is 
unassuming ;  might  is  pompous  as  a  king.  Right 
is  instructive  ;  might  is  dictatorial.  Right  reasons  like 
a  philosopher,  and  prepares  the  ground  on  which  it 
sows ;  might  stalks  on  like  madness,  reckless  of 
everything  but  the  end  sought.  Right  is  a  lamb, 
cropping  buds  and  flowers  to  make  itself  more  beau- 
tiful ;  might  is  a  tiger  prowling  in  search  of  prey. 
Right  is  a  moralist  resting  in  principle ;  might  is  a 
worldling  seeking  for  pleasure.  These  are  inward 
principles  contending  with  each  other  in  every  human 
soul. 

There  are  men,  and  their  number  is  not  small,  who 
make  principle  and  right  depend  on  policy.  They 
are  honest  when  they  think  it  policy  to  be  honest. 
They  smile  when  it  is  policy,  though  they  design  to 
stab  the  next  minute.  Men  of  policy  are  honest 
when  it  is  convenient  and  plainly  profitable.  When 
honesty  costs  nothing  and  will  pay  well,  they  are 
honest ;  but  when  policy  will  pay  best,  they  give 
honesty  the  slip  at  once.  When  they  think  honesty 
is  the  best  policy  they  are  most  conscientiously  hon- 
est ;  but  when  policy  will,  in  their  judgment,  serve 
them  a  better  turn,  their  consciences  change  faces 


266  PRINCIPLE    AND    RIGHT. 

very  quickly.  Principle,  right  and  honesty  are  always, 
and  everywhere,  and  eternally  best.  It  is  hard  to 
make  honesty  and  policy  work  together  in  the  same 
mind.  When  one  is  out,  the  other  is  in.  Honesty 
will  not  stay  where  policy  is  permitted  to  visit.  They 
do  not  think  or  act  alike,  and  never  can  be  made  to 
agree.  They  have  nothing  in  common.  One  is  the 
prophet  of  God,  the  other  of  Baal. 

There  are  men  who  choose  honesty  as  a  soul  com- 
panion. They  live  in  it,  and  with  it,  and  by  it,  They 
embody  it  in  their  actions  and  lives.  Their  words 
speak  it.  Their  faces  beam  it.  Their  actions  pro- 
claim it.  Their  hands  are  true  to  it.  Their  feet 
tread  its  path.  They  are  full  of  it.  They  love  it.  It 
is  to  them  like  a  God.  They  believe  it  is  of  God. 
With  religious  awe  they  obey  its  behests.  Not  gold, 
or  crowns,  or  fame,  could  bribe  them  to  leave  it. 
They  are  wedded  to  it  from  choice.  It  is  their  first 
love.  It  makes  them  beautiful  men  ;  yea,  more,  noble 
men,  great,  brave,  righteous  men.  When  God  looks 
about  for  his  jewels,  these  are  the  men  his  eye  rests 
on,  well  pleased.  He  keeps  his  angels  employed  in 
making  crowns  for  them,  and  they  make  crowns  for 
themselves  too !  Crowns  of  honesty !  To  some 
men  they  seem  not  very  beautiful  in  the  dim  light  of 
earth ;  but  when  the  radiance  of  heaven  is  opened 
upon  them,  they  will  reflect  it  in  gorgeous  splendor. 
Nothing  is  brighter ;  nothing  is  better ;  nothing  is 
worth  more,  or  more  substantial.  Honesty,  peerless 
queen  of  principles  !  how  her  smile  enhaloes  the 
men  who  love  her !  How  ready  they  are  to  suffer 


VALUE    OF    REPUTATION. 


for  her,  to  die  for  her  !  They  are  the  martyrs.  See 
them  !  What  a  multitude  !  Some  at  the  stake  ;  some 
in  stocks  ;  some  in  prison  ;  some  before  judges  as 
criminals  ;  some  on  gibbets,  and  some  on  the  cross. 
But  they  are  all  sustained.  They  smile  on  their 
foes.  They  have  peace  within.  They  are  strong 
and  brave  in  heart.  Their  souls  are  dauntless  as  the 
bright  old  sun. 


WHO  shall  estimate  the  cost  of  a  priceless  reputa- 
tion—  that  impress  which  gives  this  human  dross  its 
currency  —  without  which  we  stand  despised,  debased, 
depreciated?  Who  shall  repair  it  injured?  Who 
can  redeem  it  lost?  Oh,  well  and  truly  does  the 
great  philosopher  of  poetry  esteem  the  world's 
wealth  as  "trash"  in  the  comparison.  Without  it, 
gold  has  no  value ;  birth,  no  distinction ;  station,  no 
dignity;  beauty,  no  charm;  age,  no  reverence;  with- 
out it  every  treasure  impoverishes,  every  grace 
deforms,  every  dignity  degrades,  and  all  the  arts,  the 
decorations,  and  accomplishments  of  life  stand,  like 
the  beacon-blaze  upon  a  rock,  warning  the  world  that 
its  approach  is  dangerous ;  that  its  contact  is  death. 

The  wretch  without  it  is  under  eternal  quarantine; 
no  friend  to  greet ;  no  home  to  harbor  him.  The 
voyage  of  his  life  becomes  a  joyless  peril ;  and  in  the 
midst  of  all  ambition  can  achieve,  or  avarice  amass, 


268  VALUE     OF     REPUTATION. 

or  rapacity  plunder,  he  tossed  on  the  surge,  a  buoyant 
pestilence.  But  let  me  not  degrade  into  selfishness 
of  individual  safety  or  individual  exposure  this  indi- 
vidual principle ;  it  testifies  -  a  higher,  a  more ,  enno- 
bling origin. 

It  is  this  which,  consecrating  the  humble  circle  of 
the  hearth,  will  at  times  extend  itself  to  the  circum- 
ference of  the  horizon;  which  nerves  the  arm  of  the 
patriot  to  save  his  country;  which  lights  the  lamp  of 
the  philosopher  to  amend  man;  which,  if  it  does  not 
inspire,  will  yet  invigorate  the  martyr  to  merit 
immortality;  which,  when  one  world's  agony  is  passed, 
and  the  glory  of  another  is  dawning,  will  prompt  the 
prophet,  even  in  his  chariot  of  fire,  and  in  his  vision 
of  Heaven,  to  bequeath  to  mankind  the  mantle  of  his 
memory ! 

Oh,  divine!  oh,  delightful  legacy  of  a  spotless 
reputation!  Rich  is  the  inheritance  it  leaves;  pious 
the  example  it  testifies;  pure,  precious,  and  imperish- 
able, the  hope  which  it  inspires  !  Can  there  be 
conceived  a  more  atrocious  injury  than  to  filch  from 
its  possessor  this  inestimable  benefit — to  rob  society 
of  its  charm,  and  solitude  of  its  solace;  not  only  to 
out-law  life,  but  to  attaint  death,  converting  the  very 
grave,  the  refuge  of  the  sufferer,  into  the  gate  of 
infamy  and  of  shame. 

We  can  conceive  few  crimes  beyond  it.  He  who 
plunders  one's  property  takes  from  him  that  which 
can  be  repaired  by  time;  but  what  period  can  repair 
a  ruined  reputation?  He  who  maims  one,s  person, 
affects  that  which  medicine  may  remedy;  but  what 


FAME.  269 

herb  has  sovereignty  over  the  wounds  of  slander? 
He  who  ridicules  one's  poverty,  or  reproaches  one's 
profession,  upbraids  him  with  that  which  industry  may 
retrieve,  and  integrity  may  purify ;  but  what  riches 
shall  redeem  the  bankrupt  fame  ?  What  power  shall 
blanch  the  sullied  snow  of  character?  There  can  be 
no  injury  more  deadly.  There  can  be  no  crime  more 
cruel.  It  is  without  remedy.  It  is  without  antidote. 
It  is  without  evasion. 

The  reptile,  calumny,  is  ever  on  the  watch.  From 
the  fascinations  of  its  eye  no  activity  can  escape ; 
from  the  venom  of  its  fang  no  sanity  can  recover.  It 
has  no  enjoyment  but  crime ;  it  has  no  prey  but  vir- 
tue ;  it  has  no  interval  from  the  restlessness  of  its 
malice,  save  when,  bloated  with  its  victims,  it  grovels 
to  disgorge  them  at  the  withered  shrine  where  envy 
idolizes  her  own  infirmities. 


Though   fame  is  smoke, 
Its  fumes  are  frankincense  to  human  thoughts. 

—  BYRON. 

FAME,  like  money,  should  neither  be  despised  nor 
idolized.  An  honest  fame,  based  on  worth  and 
merit,  and  gained,  like  large  estates,  by  prudence  and 
industry,  deservedly  perpetutates  the  names  of  the 
great  and  good. 

No  glory  or  fame  is  both  consolatory  and  enduring 


270  FAME 

unless  based  on  virtue,  wisdom,  and  justice.  That 
acquired  by  wild  ambition,  is  tarnished  by  associa- 
tion—  time  deepens  the  stain.  We  read  the  biogra- 
phy of  Washington  with  calmness  and  delight;  that 
of  Bonaparte  with  mingled  feelings  of  admiration 
and  abhorrence.  We  admire  the  gigantic  powers  of 
his  intellect,  the  vastness  of  his  designs,  the  boldness 
of  their  execution ;  but  turn,  with  horror,  from  the 
slaughter-fields  of  his  ambition,  and  his  own  dreadful 
end.  His  giddy  height  of  power  served  to  plunge 
him  deeper  in  misery ;  his  lofty  ambition  increased 
the  burning  tortures  of  his  exile ;  his  towering  intel- 
lect added  a  duplicate  force  to  the  consuming  pangs 
of  his  disappointment.  His  fatal  end  should  cool  the 
ardor  of  all  who  have  an  inordinate  desire  for  earthly 
glory. 

The  praises  and  commendations  of  intimates  and 
friends,  are  the  greatest  and  most  impassable  obstacles 
to  real  superiority.  Better  were  it,  that  they  should 
whip  us  with  cords  and  drive  us  to  work,  than  that 
they  should  extol  and  exaggerate  our  childish  scintil- 
lations and  puerile  achievements. 

False  fame  is  the  rushlight  which  we,  or  our 
attendants,  kindle  in  our  apartments.  We  witness  its 
feeble  burning,  and  its  gradual  but  certain  decline. 
It  glimmers  for  a  little  while,  when,  with  flickering 
and  palpitating  radiance,  it  soon  expires. 

Egotism  and  vanity  detract  from  fame  as  ostenta- 
tion diminishes  the  merit  of  an  action.  He  that  is 
vain  enough  to  cry  up  himself,  ought  to  be  punished 
with  the  silence  of  others.  We  soil  the  splendor  of 


FAME.  271 

our  most  beautiful  actions  by  our  vainglorious  mag- 
nifying them.  There  is  no  vice  or  folly  that  requires 
so  much  nicety  and  skill  to  manage  as  fame,  nor  any 
which,  by  ill  management,  makes  so  contemptible  a 
figure.  The  desire  of  being  thought  famous  is  often 
a  hindrance  to  being  so ;  for  such  an  one  is  more  soli- 
citous to  let  the  world  see  what  knowledge  he  hath 
than  to  learn  that  which  he  wants.  Men  are  found 
to  be  vainer  on  account  of  those  qualities  which  they 
fondly  believe  they  have,  than  of  those  which  they 
really  have.  Some  would  be  thought  to  do  gre'at 
things,  who  are  but  tools  or  instruments ;  like  the  fool 
who  fancied  he  played  upon  the  organ,  when  he  only 
drew  the  bellows. 

Be  not  so  greedy  of  popular  applause  as  to  forget 
that  the  same  breath  which  blows  up  a  fire  may  blow 
it  out  again.  True  fame  is  the  light  of  heaven.  It 
cometh  from  afar.  It  shines  powerfully  and  brightly, 
but  not  always  without  clouds  and  shadows,  which 
interpose,  but  do  not  destroy;  eclipse,  but  do  not 
extinguish.  Like  the  glorious  sun,  it  will  continue  to 
diffuse  its  beams  when  we  are  no  more ;  for  other  eyes 
will  hail  the  light,  when  we  are  withdrawn  from  it. 

Great  and  decided  talent  is  a  tower  of  strength 
which  cannot  be  subverted.  Envy,  detraction,  and 
persecution  are  missiles  hurled  against  it  only  to  fall 
harmless  at  its  base,  and  to  strengthen  what  they 
cannot  overthrow.  It  seeks  not  the  applause  of  the 
present  moment,  in  which  folly  or  mediocrity  often 
secure  the  preference ;  but  it  extends  its  bright  and 
prophetic  vision  through  the  "dark  obscure"  of  dis- 


272 


FAME. 


tant  time,  and  bequeaths  to  remote  generations  the 
vindication  of  its  honor  and  fame,  and  the  clear  com- 
prehension of  its  truths. 

No  virtues  and  learning-  are  inherited,  but  rather 
ignorance  and  misdirected  inclinations  ;  and  assiduous 
and  persevering  labor  must  correct  these  defects,  and 
make  a  fruitful  garden  of  that  soil  which  is  naturally 
encumbered  with  stones  and  thistles.  All  home-tri- 
umphs and  initiatory  efforts  are  nothing  worth.  That 
which  is  great,  commanding,  and  lasting,  must  be  won 
by  stubborn  energy,  by  patient  industry,  by  unwearied 
application,  and  by  indefatigable  zeal.  We  must  lie 
down  and  groan,  and  get  up  and  toil.  It  is  a  long 
race,  not  a  pleasant  walk,  and  the  prize  is  not  a  leaf 
or  a  bauble,  but  a  chaplet  or  a  crown.  The  specta- 
tors are  not  friends,  but  foes ;  and  the  contest  is  one 
in  which  thousands  fall  through  weakness  and  want 
of  real  force  and  courage. 

We  may  add  virtue  to  virtue,  strength  to  strength, 
and  knowledge  to  knowledge,  and  yet  fail,  and  soon 
be  lost  and  forgotten  in  that  mighty  and  soul-testing 
struggle,  in  which  few  come  off  conquerors  and  win 
an  induring  and  imperishable  name.  If  we  embark 
on  this  Bourse,  we  shall  need  stout  hearts  conjoined 
with  invincible  minds.  We  must  bid  adieu  to  vice, 
to  sloth,  to  flatteries  and  ease, 

"  And  scorn  delights  and  live  laborious  days." 


T  M  E 


p  A  \&  j  y  '• 


AMBITION.  273 


He  who  ascends  to  mountain-tops  shall  find 
The  loftiest  peaks  most  wrapt  in  cJouds  and  snow  ; 
He  who  surpasses  or  subdues  mankind, 
Must  look  down  on  the  hate  of  those  below. 

—  BYRON. 


SOME  conceited  wights,  who  study  party  politics 
more  than  philosophy  or  ethics,  call  all  the  laudable 
desires  of  the  human  heart  ambition,  aiming1  to  strip 
the  monster  of  its  deformity,  that  they  may  use  it  as 
the  livery  of  heaven  to  serve  the  devil  in.  The 
former  are  based  on  philanthropy,  the  latter  on  self- 
ishness. Lexicographers  define  ambition  to  be  an 
earnest  desire  of  power,  honor,  preferment,  pride. 
The  honor  that  is  awarded  to  power  is  of  doubtful 
grandeur,  and  the  power  that  is  acquired  by  ambition 
is  held  by  a  slender  tenure,  a  mere  rope  of  sand.  Its 
hero  often  receives  the  applause  of  the  multitude  one 
day,  and  its  execrations  the  next.  The  summit  of 
vain  ambition  is  often  the  depth  of  misery.  Based 
on  a  sandy  foundation,  it  falls  before  the  blasts  of 
envy,  and  the  tornado  of  faction.  It  is  inflated  by  a 
gaseous  thirst  for  power,  like  a  balloon  with  hydrogen, 
and  is  in  constant  danger  of  being  exploded  by  the 
very  element  that  causes  its  elevation.  It  eschews 
charity,  and  deals  largely  in  the  corrosive  sublimate 
cf  falsehood.  Like  the  kite,  it  cannot  rise  in  a  calm, 
and  requires  a  constant  wind  to  preserve  its  upward 
18 


274  .    AMBITION. 

course.  The  fulcrum  of  ignorance,  and  the  lever  of 
party  spirit,  form  its  magic  power.  An  astute  writer 
has  well  observed,  that  "ambition  makes  the  same 
mistake  concerning  power,  that  avarice  makes  relative 
to  wealth."  The  ambitious  man  begins  by  accumu- 
lating it  as  the  desideratum  of  happiness,  and  ends 
his  career  in  the  midst  of  exertions  to  obtain  more. 
So  ended  the  onward  and  upward  career  of  Napoleon; 
his  life  a  modern  wonder;  his  fate  a  fearful  warning; 
his  death  a  scene  of  gloom.  Power  is  gained  as  a 
means  of  enjoyment,  but  oftener  than  otherwise,  is 
its  fell  destroyer.  Like  the  viper  in  the  fable,  it  is 
prone  to  sting  those  who  warm  it  into  life.  History 
fully  demonstrates  these  propositions.  Hyder  All 
-was  in  the  habit  of  starting  frightfully  in  his  sleep. 
His  confidential  friend  and  attendant  asked  the  reason. 
He  replied :  "  My  friend,  the  state  of  a  beggar  is  more 
delightful  than  my  envied  monarchy  —  awake,  he  sees 
Jio  conspirators — asleep,  he  dreams  of  no  assassins." 
Ambition,  like  the  gold  of  the  miser,  is  the  sepulchre 
of  the  other  passions  of  the  man.  It  is  the  grand 
centre  around  which  they  move  with  centripetal  force. 
Its  history  is  one  of  carnage  and  blood ;  it  is  the  bane 
of  substantial  good ;  it  endangers  body  and  soul  for 
time  and  eternity.  Reader,  if  you  desire  peace  of 
mind,  shun  ambition  and  the  ambitious  man.  He 
will  use  you  as  some  men  do  their  horses,  ride  you 
all  day  without  food,  and  give  you  post  meat  for  sup- 
per. He  will  gladly  make  a  bridge  of  you  on  which 
to  walk  into  power,  provided  he  can  pass  toll  free. 
Let  your  aim  be  more  lofty  than  the  highest  pinnacle 


AVARICE.  275 

ambition  can  rear.     Nothing  is  pure  but  heaven,  let 
that  be  the  prize  you  seek, 

"  And  taste  and  prove  in  that  transporting  sight, 
Joy  without  sorrow,  without  darkness  —  light." 

The  road  ambition  travels  is  too  narrow  for  friend- 
ship, too  crooked  for  love,  too  rugged  for  honesty, 
too  dark  for  science,  and  too  hilly  for  happiness. 


A  judicious  writer  has  well  remarked,  that  avarice 
is  the  father  of  more  children  than  Priam,  and,  like 
him,  survives  them  all.  It  is  a  paradoxical  propen- 
sity, a  species  of  heterogeneous  insanity.  The  miser 
starves  himself,  knowing  that  those  who  wish  him 
dead  will  fatten  on  his  hoarded  gains.  He  submits 
to  more  torture  to  lose  heaven  than  the  martyr  does 
to  gain  it.  He  serves  the  worst  of  tyrannical  masters 
more  faithfully  than  most*  Christians  do  the  best, 
whose  yoke  is  easy  and  burden  light.  He  worships 
this  world,  but  repudiates  all  its  pleasures.  He 
endures  all  the  miseries  of  poverty  through  life,  that 
he  may  die  in  the  midst  of  wealth.  He  is  the  mere 
turnkey  of  his  own  riches  —  a  poorly-fed  and  badly- 
clothed  slave  ;  a  draught-horse  without  bells  or  feath- 
ers ;  a  man  condemmed  to  work  in  mines,  which  is 
the  lowest  and  hardest  condition  of  servitude ;  and, 
to  increase  his  misery,  a  worker  there  for  he  knows 


276  AVARICE. 

not  whom.  "He  heapeth  up  riches  and  knoweth  not 
who  shall  enjoy  them."  It  is  only  sure  that  he 
himself  neither  shall  nor  can  enjoy  them.  He  is  an 
indigent,  needy  slave ;  he  will  hardly  allow  himself 
clothes  and  board  wages.  He  defrauds  not  only 
other  men,  but  his  own  genius  ;  he  cheats  himself 
for  money.  He  lives  as  if  the  world  were  made  alto- 
gether for  him,  and  not  he  for  the  world ;  to  take  in 
everything  and  to  part  with  nothing.  Charity  is 
accounted  no  grace  with  him,  and  gratitude  no  virtue. 
The  cries  of  the  poor  never  enter  his  ears,  or  if  they 
do,  he  has  always  one  ear  readier  to  let  them  out  than 
to  take  them  in.  In  a  word,  by  his  rapines  and 
extortions  he  is  always  for  making  as  many  poor  as 
he  can,  but  for  relieving  none  whom  he  either  finds 
or  makes  so.  So  that  it  is  a  question  whether  his 
heart  be  harder  than  his  fist  is  close.  In  a  word,  he 
is  a  pest  and  a  monster;  greedier  than  the  sea  and 
barrener  than  the  shore.  He  is  the  cocoon  of  the 
human  race  —  death  ends  his  toils  and  others  reel  off 
the  glossy  product  of  his  labors.  He  is  the  father  of 
more  miseries  than  the  prodigal  —  whilst  he  lives  he 
heaps  them  on  himself  and  those  around  him.  He 
is  his  own  and  the  poor  man's  enemy. 

The  avarice  of  the  miser  may  be  termed  the  grand 
sepulchre  of  all  his  other  passions,  as  they  succes- 
sively decay.  But,  unlike  other  tombs,  it  is  enlarged 
by  repletion  and  strengthened  by  age.  His  mind  is 
never  expanded  beyond  the  circumference  of  the 
almighty  dollar.  He  thinks  not  of  his  immortal  soul, 
his  accountability  to  God,  or  of  his  final  destiny.  He 


GAMBLING.  277 

covets  the  wealth  of  others,  revels  in  extortion,  stops 
at  nothing-  to  gratify  his  ruling  passion  that  will  not 
endanger  his  dear  idol.  He  is  an  Ishmael  in  commu- 
nity—  he  passes  to  the  grave  without  tasting  the 
sweets  of  friendship,  the  delights  of  social  intercourse, 
or  the  comforts  of  a  good  repast,  unless  the  latter  is 
got  by  invitation,  when  abro  d.  The  first  voluntary 
expenditure  upon  his  body  during"  his  manhood,  and 
the  first  welcome  visit  of  his  neighbors,  both  passive 
on  his  part,  are  at  his  funeral. 

If  we  would  enjoy  the  comforts  of  life  rationally,  we 
must  avoid  the  miseries  of  avarice  and  the  evils  of 
prodigality.  Let  us  use  the  provisions  of  our  bene- 
volent Benefactor  without  abusing  them,  and  render 
to  Him  that  gratitude  which  is  His  due.  Banish  all 
inordinate  desires  after  wealth  —  if  you  gain  an 
abundance,  be  discreetly  liberal,  judiciously  benevo- 
lent, and,  if  your  children  have  arrived  at  their  major- 
ity, die  your  own  executor. 


Ambling* 


EVERY  device  that  suddenly  changes  money  or 
property  from  one  person  to  another  without  a  quid 
pro  quo,  or  leaving  an  equivalent,  produces  individual 
embarrassment  —  often  extreme  misery.  More  per- 
nicious is  that  plan,  if  it  changes  property  and  money 
from  the  hands  of  the  many  to  the  few. 


278  GAMBLING. 

Gambling  does  this,  and  often  inflicts  a  still  greater 
injury,  by  poisoning  its  victims  with  vice,  that  event- 
ually lead  to  crimes  of  the  darkest  hue.  Usually,  the 
money  basely  filched  from  its  victims,  is  the  smallest 
part  of  the  injury  inflicted.  It  almost  inevitably  leads 
to  intemperance.  Every  species  of  offence,  on  the 
black  catalogue  of  crime,  may  be  traced  to  the  gam- 
bling table,  as  the  entering  wedge  to  its  perpetration. 

This  alarming  evil  is  as  wide-spread  as  our  country. 
It  is  practiced  from  the  humblest  water  craft  that  floats 
on  our  canals  up  to  the  majestic  steamboat  on  our 
mighty  rivers  ;  from  the  lowest  groggeries  that  curse 
the  community,  up  to  the  most  fashionable  hotels  that 
claim  respectability ;  from  the  hod-carrier  in  his 
bespattered  rags,  up  to  the  honorable  members  of 
congress  in  their  ruffles.  Like  a  mighty  maelstrom, 
its  motion,  at  the  outside,  is  scarcely  perceptible,  but 
soon  increases  to  a  fearful  velocity ;  suddenly  the 
awful  centre  is  reached  —  the  victim  is  lost  in  the 
vortex.  Interested  friends  may  warn,  the  wife  may 
entreat,  with  all  the  eloquence  of  tears  ;  children  may 
cling  and  cry  for  bread — once  in  the  fatal  snare,  the 
victim  of  gamblers  is  seldom  saved.  He  combines 
the  deafness  of  the  adder  with  the  desperation  of  a 
maniac,  and  rushes  on,  regardless  of  danger  —  reck- 
less of  consequences. 

To  the  fashionable  of  our  country,  who  play  cards 
and  other  games  as  an  innocent  amusement,  we  may 
trace  the  most  aggravated  injuries  resulting  from 
gambling.  It  is  there  that  young  men  of  talents, 
education,  and  wealth,  take  the  decree  of  entered 


GAMBLING.  279 

apprentice.  The  example  of  men  in  high  life,  men 
in  public  stations  and  responsible  offices,  has  a  pow- 
erful and  corrupting  influence  on  society,  and  does 
much  to  increase  the  evil,  and  forward,  as  well  as 
sanction  the  high-handed  robbery  of  fine  dressed 
blacklegs.  The  gambling  hells  in  our  cities,  tolerated 
and  patronized,  are  a  disgrace  to  a  nation  bearing  a 
Christian  name,  and  would  be  banished  from  a  Pagan 
community. 

Gambling  assumes  a  great  variety  of  forms,  from 
the  flipping  of  a  cent  in  the  bar  room  for  a  glass  of 
whisky,  up  to  the  splendidly  furnished  faro  bank  room, 
where  men  are  occasionally  swindled  to  the  tune  of 
"ten  thousand  a  year,"  and  sometimes  a  much  larger 
amount.  In  addition  to  these  varieties,  we  have 
legalized  lotteries  and  fancy  stock  brokers,  and  among 
those  who  manage  them,  professors  of  religion  are 
not  unfrequently  found. 

Thousands  who  carefully  shun  the  monster  under 
any  other  form,  pay  a  willing  tribute  to  the  tyrant  at 
the  shrine  of  lotteries.  Persons  from  all  classes 
throw  their  money  into  this  vault  of  uncertainty,  this 
whirlpool  of  speculation,  with  a  less  chance  to  regain  it 
than  when  at  the  detested  faro  bank.  It  is  here  that 
the  poor  man  spends  his  last  dollar ;  it  is  here  that 
the  rich  often  become  poor,  for  a  man  has  ten  chances 
to  be  killed  by  lightning  where  he  has  one  to  draw  a 
capital  prize.  The  ostensible  objects  of  lotteries  are 
always  praiseworthy.  Meeting  houses,  hospitals, 
seminaries  of  learning,  internal  improvement,  some 
laudable  enterprise,  may  always  be  found  first  and 


280  GAMBLING. 

foremost  in  a  lottery  scheme  ;  the  most  ingenious  and 
most  fatal  gull  trap  ever  invented  by  man  or  devil 

Gaming  cowers  in  darkness,  and  often  blots  out  all 
the  nobler  powers  of  the  heart,  paralyzes  its  sensibil- 
ities to  human  woe,  severs  the  sacred  ties  that  bind 
man  to  man,  to  woman,  to  family,  to  community,  to 
morals,  to  religion,  to  social  order,  and  to  country. 
It  transforms  men  to  brutes,  desperadoes,  maniacs, 
misanthropists,  and  strips  human  nature  of  all  its 
native  dignity.  The  gamester  forfeits  the  happiness 
of  this  life  and  endures  the  penalties  of  sin  in  both 
worlds.  His  profession  is  the  scavenger  of  avarice, 
haggard  and  filthy,  badly  fed,  poorly  clad,  and  worse 
paid. 

Let  me  entreat  all  to  shun  the  monster,  under  all 
his  borrowed  and  deceptive  forms.  Remember  that 
gambling  for  amusement  is  the  wicket  gate  into  the 
labyrinth,  and  when  once  in,  you  may  find  it  difficult 
to  get  out.  Ruin  is  marked  in  blazing  capitals  over 
the  door  of  the  gambler;  his  hell  is  the  vestibule  to 
that  eternal  hell  where  the  worm  dieth  not  and  the 
fire  is  not  quenched.  If  you  regard  your  own,  and 
the  happiness  of  your  family  and  friends,  and  the  sal- 
vation of  your  immortal  soul,  recoil  from  even  the 
shadow  of  a  shade  reflected  by  this  heaven-daring, 
heart-breaking,  soul-destroying,  fashionable,  but  ruin- 
ous vice. 

An  evil  that  starts  upon  a  wrong  principle,  the  vital 
element  of  which  is  injustice,  must  have  a  vast  produc- 
tive force  in  creating  other  evils.  It  is  necessarily  a 
mighty  agency  in  destroying  all  that  is  good  in  the 


GAMBLING.  281 

soul ;  vitiating-  the  whole  character,  and  dragging 
down  every  lofty  purpose  and  noble  aspiration.  And 
we  find  that  the  gambler  is  rapidly  qualified  for  every 
other  species  of  wickedness.  The  fiery  excitement 
to  which  he  yields  himself  in  the  game-room  inflames 
every  other  passion.  It  produces  a  state  of  mind 
that  can  be  satisfied  only  with  intense  and  forbidden 
pleasures.  It  virtually  takes  him  out  of  the  circle  of 
refined,  rational  enjoyment  and  plunges  him  into  scenes 
more  congenial  to  a  corrupt  taste.  He  would  gladly 
witness  as  a  pastime  bull  fights,  pugilistic  contests ;  and 
perhaps  his  craving  for  excitement  could  only  be  fully 
satisfied  by  scenes  such  as  Roman  persecutors  and 
heathen  spectators  formerly  feasted  upon,  in  which 
men  and  women  were  torn  in  pieces  by  wild  beasts. 
Such  bloody  encounters  and  horrid  tragedies  might 
come  up  to  his  standard  of  amusement 

Thus  does  the  giant  vice  uncivilize  a  man  and 
throw  him  back  into  a  state  of  barbarism.  It  revo- 
lutionizes his  tastes  at  the  same  time  that  it  casts 
down  his  moral  principles.  If  its  victim  has  been  in 
early  life  under  the  influence  of  religious  sentiment, 
it  speedily  obliterates  those  sentiments  from  the  mind. 
If  the  voice  of  conscience  has  been  in  the  past  years 
heard,  that  voice  is  now  silenced.  If  feelings  of 
humanity  once  had  influence,  their  power  is  now 
gone.  If  visions  of  extensive  usefulness  and  honor- 
able achievement  once  floated  in  the  imagination 
they  have  vanished ;  vanished  in  the  distance,  never 
to  return. 

Nor  should  the    youth  forget  that   if  he    is    once 


282  TEMPER. 

taken  in  the  coils  of  this  vice,  the  hope  of  extricating 
himself,  or  of  realizing  his  visions  of  wealth  and 
happiness,  is  exceedingly  faint.  He  has  no  rational 
grounds  to  expect  that  he  can  escape  the  terrible 
consequences  that  are  inseparably  connected  with 
this  sin.  If  he  does  not  become  bankrupt  in  property, 
he  is  sure  to  become  one  in  character  and  in  moral 
principle  ;  he  becomes  a  debauched,  debased,  friend- 
less vagabond. 


GOOD  temper  is  like  a  sunny  day,  it  sheds  its 
brightness  on  everything.  No  trait  of  character  is 
more  valuable  than  the  possession  of  good  temper. 
Home  can  never  be  made  happy  without  it.  It  is  like 
flowers  springing  up  in  our  pathway,  reviving  and 
cheering  us.  Kind  words  and  looks  are  the  outward 
demonstration  ;  patience  and  forbearance  are  the  sen- 
tinels within. 

If  a  man  has  a  quarrelsome  temper,  let  him  alone. 
The  world  will  soon  find  him  employment.  He  will 
soon  meet  with  some  one  stronger  than  himself,  who 
will  repay  him  better  than  you  can.  A  man  may  fight 
duels  all  his  life  if  he  is  disposed  to  quarrel.  How 
sweet  the  serenity  of  habitual  self-command !  How 
many  stinging  self-reproaches  it  spares  us !  When 
does  a  man  feel  more  at  ease  with  himself  than  when 


TEMPER.  983 

he  has  passed  through  a  sudden  and  strong  provoca- 
tion without  speaking  a  word,  or  in  undisturbed  good 
humor  !  When,  on  the  contrary,  does  he  feel  a  deeper 
humiliation  than  when  he  is  conscious  that  anger  has 
made  him  betray  himself  by  word,  look  or  action  ? 
Nervous  irritability  is  the  greatest  weakness  of  char- 
acter. It  is  the  sharp  grit  which  aggravates  friction 
ind  cuts  out  the  bearings  of  the  entire  human  machine. 
Nine  out  of  every  ten  men  we  meet  are  in  a  chronic 
state  of  annoyance.  The  least  untoward  thing  sets 
them  in  a  ferment. 

There  are  people,  yes  many  people,  always  looking 
out  for  slights.  They  cannot  carry  on  the  daily  inter- 
course of  the  family  without  finding  that  some  offense 
is  designed.  They  are  as  touchy  as  hair  triggers.  If 
they  meet  an  acquaintance  who  happens  to  be  pre- 
occupied with  business,  they  attribute  his  abstraction 
in  some  mode  personal  to  themselves  and  take  umbrage 
accordingly.  They  lay  on  others  the  fruit  of  their 
irritability.  Indigestion  makes  them  see  impertinence 
in  every  one  they  come  in  contact  with.  Innocent 
persons,  who  never  dreamed  of  giving  offense,  are 
Astonished  to  find  some  unfortunate  word,  or  momen- 
tary taciturnity,  mistaken  for  an  insult.  To  say  the 
least,  the  habit  is  unfortunate.  It  is  far  wiser  to  take 
the  more  charitable  view  of  our  fellow  beings,  and 
not  suppose  that  a  slight  is  intended  unless  the  neg- 
lect is  open  and  direct.  After  all,  too,  life  takes  its 
hues  in  a  great  degree  from  the  color  of  our  own 
mind.  If  we  are  frank  and  generous,  the  world  will 
treat  us  kindly  ;  if,  on  the  contrary,  we  are  suspicious, 


284  TEMPER. 

men  learn  to  be  cold  and  cautious  to  us.  Let  a  per- 
son get  the  reputation  of  being  "  touchy,"  and  every- 
body is  under  restraint,  and  in  this  way  the  chances 
of  an  imaginary  offense  are  vastly  increased. 

Do  you  not  find  in  households  —  refined,  many  of 
them  —  many  women  who  are  jealous,  exacting,  and 
have  a  temper  that  will  be  swayed  by  nothing?  And 
do  we  not  see  in  another  family  circle  a  man  as  coarse 
and  bloody-mouthed  as  a  despot?  The  purpose  of 
the  existence  of  a  score  of  people  is  to  make  him 
happy,  fan  him,  feed  him,  amuse  him,  and  he  stands 
as  a  great  absorbent  of  the  life  and  heat  that  belongs 
to  the  rest.  Many  sermons  tell  you  to  be  meek  and 
humble,  but  you  do  n't  hear  many  which  tell  you  you 
live  in  your  families  to  growl,  to  bite,  and  to  worry 
one  another.  You  ought  to  make  in  your  households 
the  outward  and  visible  life-work  for  this  spiritual  and 
transcendent  life.  There  can  be  nothing  too  grace- 
ful and  truthful,  generous,  disinterested  and  gracious 
for  the  household.  All  that  a  man  expects  to  be  in 
heaven,  he  ought  to  try  to  be  from  day  to  day  with 
his  wife  and  children,  and  with  those  that  are  mem- 
bers of  his  family. 

It  is  said  of  Socrates,  that  whether  he  was  teaching 
the  rules  of  an  exact  morality,  whether  he  was 
answering  his  corrupt  judges,  or  was  receiving  sen- 
tence of  death,  or  swallowing  the  poison,  he  was  still 
the  same  man  ;  that  is  to  say,  calm,  quiet,  undisturbed, 
intrepid,  in  a  word,  wise  to  the  last. 

A  man  once  called  at  the  house  of  Pericles  and 
abused  him  violently.  His  anger  so  transcended  him 


TEMPER.  285 

that  he  did  not  observe  how  late  it  was  growing,  and 
when  he  had  exhausted  his  passion  it  was  quite  dark. 
When  he  turned  to  depart,  Pericles  calmly  summoned 
a  servant  and  said  to  him,  "Bring  a  lamp  and  attend 
this  man  home." 

Like  flakes  of  snow  that  fall  unperceived  upon  the 
earth,  the  seemingly  unimportant  events  of  life  suc- 
ceed one  another.  As  the  snow  gathers  together, 
so  are  our  habits  formed.  No  single  flake  that 
is  added  to  the  pile  produces  a  sensible  change. 
No  single  action  creates,  however  it  may  exhibit 
a  man's  character;  but  as  the  tempest  hurls  the 
avalanche  down  the  mountain,  and  overwhelms  the 
inhabitant  and  his  habitation,  so  passion,  acting 
upon  the  elements  of  mischief  which  pernicious 
habits  have  brought  together  by  imperceptible  accu- 
mulation, may  overthrow  the  edifice  of  truth  and 
virtue. 

Truly,  a  man  ought  to  be,  above  all  things,  kind 
and  gentle,  but  however  meek  he  is  required  to  be, 
he  also  ought  to  remember  that  he  is  a  man.  There 
are  many  persons  to  .whom  we  do  not  need  to  tell 
this  truth,  for  as  soon  as  they  only  think  of  having 
been  offended  or  that  somebody  has  done  them  any 
harm,  they  fly  up  like  gunpowder.  Long  before  they 
know  for  a  certainty  that  there  is  a  thief  in  the  gar- 
den they  have  the  window  open  and  the  old  gun  has 
been  popped.  It  is  a  very  dangerous  thing  to  have 
such  neighbors,  for  we  could  sit  more  safely  on  the 
horns  of  a  bull  than  to  live  in  quietness  with  such 
characters.  We,  therefore,  should  form  no  friendship 


286  ANGER. 

with  persons  of  a  wrathful  temper,  and  go  no  farther 
than  is  needful  with  a  man  of  a  fiery  and  unrestrained 
spirit.  Solomon  said,  "He  that  is  slow  to  wrath  is 
of  great  understanding,  but  he  that  is  hasty  of  spirit 
exalteth  folly." 

Our  advice  is,  to  keep  cool  under  all  circumstances, 
if  possible.  Much  may  be  effected  by  cultivation. 
We  should  learn  to  command  our  feelings  and  act 
prudently  in  all  the  ordinary  concerns  of  life.  This 
will  better  prepare  us  to  meet  sudden  emergencies 
with  calmness  and  fortitude.  If  we  permit  our  feel- 
ings to  be  ruffled  and  disconcerted  in  small  matters, 
they  will  be  thrown  into  a  whirlwind  when  big  events 
overtake  us.  Our  best  antidote  is,  implicit  confidence 
in  God. 


IT  does  no  good  to  get  angry.  Some  sins  have  a 
seeming  compensation  or  apology,  a  present  gratifica- 
tion of  some  sort,  but  anger  has  none.  A  man  feels 
no  better  for  it.  It  is  really  a  torment,  and  when  the 
storm  of  passion  has  cleared  away,  it  leaves  one  to 
see  that  he  has  been  a  fool.  And  he  has  made  him- 
self a  fool  in  the  eyes  of  others  too. 

Sinful  anger,  when  it  becomes  strong,  is  called 
wrath ;  when  it  makes  outrages,  it  is  fury ;  when  it 
becomes  fixed,  it  is  termed  hatred;  and  when  it 
intends  to  injure  any  one,  it  is  called  malice.  All 


ANGER.  287 

these  wicked  passions  spring  from  anger.  The  con- 
tinuance and  frequent  fits  of  anger  produce  an  evil 
habit  in  the  soul,  a  propensity  to  be  angry,  which 
oftentimes  ends  in  choler,  bitterness,  and  morosity; 
when  the  mind  becomes  ulcerated,  peevish,  and  quer- 
ulous, and  like  a  thin,  weak  plate  of  iron,  receives 
impressions,  and  is  wounded  by  the  least  occurrence. 

Anger  is  such  a  headstrong  and  impetuous  passion, 
that  the  ancients  call  it  a  short  madness ;  and  indeed 
there  is  no  difference  between  an  angry  man  and  a 
madman  while  the  fit  continues,  because  both  are  void 
of  reason  and  blind  for  that  season.  It  is  a  disease 
that,  where  it  prevails,  is  no  less  dangerous  than 
deforming  to  us ;  it  swells  the  face,  it  agitates  the 
body,  and  inflames  the  blood ;  and  as  the  evil  spirit 
mentioned  in  the  Gospel  threw  the  possessed  into  the 
fire  or  the  water,  so  it  casts  us  into  all  kinds  of  danger. , 
It  too  often  ruins  or  subverts  whole  families,  towns, 
cities,  and  kingdoms.  It  is  a  vice  that  very  few  can 
conceal ;  and  if  it  does  not  betray  itself  by  such 
external  signs  as  paleness  of  the  countenance  and 
trembling  of  the  limbs,  it  is  more  impetuous  within, 
and  by  gnawing  in  the  heart  injures  the  body  and  the 
mind  very  much. 

No  man  is  obliged  to  live  so  free  from  passion  as 
not  to  show  some  resentment ;  and  it  is  rather  stoical 
stupidity  than  virtue,  to  do  otherwise.  Anger  may 
glance  into  the  breast  of  a  wise  man,  but  rest  only  in 
the  bosom  of  fools.  Fight  hard  against  a  hasty  tem- 
per. Anger  will  come,  but  resist  it  strongly.  A  spark 
may  set  a  house  on  fire.  A  fit  of  passion  may  give 


288  ANGER. 

you  cause  to  mourn  all  the  days  of  your  life.  Never 
revenge  an  injury.  When  Socrates  found  in  himself 
any  disposition  to  anger,  he  would  check  it  by  speak- 
ing low,  in  opposition  to  the  motions  of  his  displeas- 
ure. If  you  are  conscious  of  being  in  a  passion,  keep 
your  mouth  shut,  for  words  increase  it.  Many  a 
person  has  dropped  dead  in  a  rage.  Fits  of  anger 
bring  fits  of  disease.  "  Whom  the  gods  would  destroy 
they  first  make  mad,"  and  the  example  is  a  good  one 
for  our  imitation.  If  you  would  demolish  an  oppo- 
nent in  argument,  first  make  him  as  mad  as  you  can. 
Dr.  Fuller  used  to  say  that  the  heat  of  passion  makes 
our  souls  to  crack,  and  the  devil  creeps  in  at  the 
crevices.  Anger  is  a  passion  the  most  criminal  and 
destructive  of  all  the  passions ;  the  only  one  that  not 
only  bears  the  appearance  of  insanity,  but  often  pro- 
duces the  wildest  form  of  madness.  It  is  difficult, 
indeed,  sometimes  to  mark  the  line  that  distinguishes 
the  bursts  of  rage  from  the  bursts  of  frenzy ;  so  simi- 
lar are  its  movements,  and  too  often  equally  similar 
are  its  actions.  What  crime  has  not  been  committed 
in  the  paroxysms  of  anger  ?  Has  not  the  friend  mur- 
dered his  friend?  the  son  massacred  his  parent?  the 
creature  blasphemed  his  Creator?  When,  indeed, 
the  nature  of  this  passion  is  considered,  what  crime 
may  it  not  commit?  Is  it  not  the  storm  of  the  human 
mind,  which  wrecks  every  better  affection  —  wrecks 
reason  and  conscience ;  and,  as  a  ship  driven  without 
helm  or  compass  before  the  rushing  gale,  is  not  the 
mind  borne  away,  without  guide  or  government,  by 
the  tempest  of  unbounded  rage? 


ANGER.  289 

A  passionate  temper  renders  a  man  unfit  for  advice, 
deprives   him  of  his  reason,  robs  him   of  all  that  is 
either  great  Or  noble  in  his  nature;  it  makes  him  unfit 
for  conversation,  destroys  friendship,  changes  justice 
into  cruelty,  and  turns  all  order  into  confusion.     Says 
Lord  Bacon:      "An   angry   man   who  suppresses   his 
passions,  thinks  worse  than  he  speaks ;  and  an  angry 
man  that  will  chide,  speaks  worse  than   he  thinks." 
A  wise  man  hath  no  more  anger  than  is  necessary  to 
show  that  he  can  apprehend  the  first  wrong,  nor  any 
more  revenge  than  justly  to  prevent  a  second.      One 
angry  word  sometimes  raises  a  storm  that  time  itself 
cannot  allay.     There   is   many  a  man  whose   tongue 
might  govern  multitudes,  if  he  could  only  govern  his 
tongue.      He  is  the  man  of  power  who  controls  the 
storms  and  tempests  of  his  mind.     He  that  will  be 
angry  for  anything,  will  be   angry   for  nothirfg.     As 
some  are  often  incensed  without  a  cause,  so  they  are 
apt  to  continue   their   anger,  lest  it  should  appear  to 
their  disgrace  to  have  begun  without  occasion.      If  we 
do  not  subdue  our  anger  it  will  subdue  us.     It  is  the 
second  word  that  makes  the  quarrel.     That  anger  is 
not  warrantable  that  hath  seen  two  suns.     One  long 
anger,  and  twenty  short  ones,  have  no  very  great 
difference.     Our  passions  are  like   the  seas,  agitable 
by  the  winds ;  and  as  God  hath  set  bounds  to  these, 
so  should  we  to  those  —  so  far  shall  thou  go,  and  no 
farther. 

Angry   and    choleric   men    are  as    ungrateful  and 
unsociable  as   thunder  and  lightning,  being  in  them- 
selves all   storm  and  tempests ;   but  quiet  and  easy 
T9 


290  ANGER. 

natures  are  like  fair  weather,  welcome  to  all,  and 
acceptable  to  all  men;  they  gather  together  what  the 
other  disperses,  and  reconcile  all  whom  the  other 
incenses;  as  they  have  the  good  will  and  the  good 
wishes  of  all  other  men,  so  they  have  the  full  possess- 
sion  of  themselves,  have  all  their  own  thoughts  at 
peace,  and  enjoy  quiet  and  ease  in  their  own  fortunes, 
how  strait  soever  it  may  be. 

But  how  with  the  angry?  Who  thinks  well  of  an 
ill-natured,  churlish  man,  who  has  to  be  approached  in 
,the  most  guarded  and  cautious  way?  Who  wishes 
him  for  a  neighbor,  or  a  partner  in  business?  He 
keeps  all  about  him  in  nearly  the  same  state  of  mind 
as  if  they  were  living  next  door  to  a  hornet's  nest  or 
a  rabid  animal.  And  so  to  prosperity  in  business; 
one  gets  along  no  better  for  getting  angry.  What  if 
business  is  perplexing,  and  everything  goes  "by  con- 
traries!" Will  a  fit  of  passion  make  the  wind  more 
propitious,  the  ground  more  productive,  the  market 
more  favorable  ?  Will  a  bad  temper  draw  customers, 
pay  notes,  and  make  creditors  better  natured?  If 
men,  animal;,  or  senseless  matter  cause  trouble,  will 
getting  "mad"  help  matters? — make  men  more  sub- 
servient, brutes  more  docile,  wood  and  stone  more 
tractable?  Any  angry  man  adds  nothing  to  the  wel- 
fare of  society.  He  may  do  some  good,  but  more 
hurt.  Heated  passion  makes  him  a  firebrand,  and  it 
is  a  wonder  that  he  does  not  kindle  flames  of  discord 
on  every  hand. 

The  disadvantages  arising  from  anger,  under  all 
circumstances,  should  prove  a  panacea  for  the  com- 


ANGER.  291 

plaint.  In  moments  of  cool  reflection,  the  man  who 
indulges  it,  views,  with  deep  regret,  the  desolations 
produced  by  a  summer  storm  of  passion.  Friendship, 
domestic  happiness,  self-respect,  the  esteem  of  others, 
and  sometimes  property,  are  swept  away  by  a  whirl- 
wind ;  perhaps  a  tornado  of  anger.  We  have  more 
than  once  Seen  the  furniture  of  a  house  in  a  mass  of 
ruin,  the  work  of  an  angry  moment.  We  have  seen 
anger  make  wives  unhappy,  alienate  husbands,  spoil 
children,  derange  all  harmony,  and  disturb  the  quiet 
of  a  whole  neighborhood.  Anger,  like  too  much 
wine,  hides  us  from  ourselves,  but  exposes  us  to 
others. 

Some  people  seem  to  live  in  a  perpetual  storm; 
calm  weather  can  never  be  reckoned  upon  in  their 
company.  Suddenly,  when  you  least  expect  it,  with- 
out any  adequate  reason,  and  almost  without  any 
reason  at  all,  the  sky  becomes  black,  and  the  wind 
rises,  and  there  is  growling  thunder  and  pelting  rain. 
You  can  hardly  tell  where  the  tempest  came  from. 
An  accident  for  which  no  one  can  be  rightly  blamed, 
a  misunderstanding  which  a  moment's  calm  thought 
would  have  terminated,  a  chance  word  which  meant 
no  evil,  a  trifling  difficulty  which  good  sense  might 
have  removed  at  once,  a  slight  disappointment  which 
a  cheerful  heart  would  have  borne  with  a  smile,  brings 
on  earthquakes  and  hurricanes.  What  men  want  of 
reason  for  their  opinions,  they  are  apt  to  supply  and 
make  up  in  rage.  The  most  irreconcilable  enmities 
grow  from  the  most  intimate  friendships.  To  be 
angry  with  a  weak  man  is  to  prove  that  you  are  not 


292  OBSTINACY, 

very  strong  yourself.  It  is  much  better  to  reprove 
than  to  be  angry  secretly.  Anger,  says  Pythagoras, 
begins  with  folly  and  ends  with  repentance. 

Be  not  angry  that  you  cannot  make  others  as  you 
wish  them  to  be,  since  you  cannot  make  yourself  what 
you  wish  to  be. 

He  that  is  angry  with  the  just  reprover  kindles  the 
fire  of  the  just  avenger.  Bad  money  cannot  circulate 
through  the  veins  and  arteries  of  trade.  It  is  a  great 
pity  that  bad  blood  can  circulate  through  the  veins 
and  arteries  of  the  human  frame.  It  seems  a  pity 
that  an  angry  man,  like  the  bees  that  leave  their  stings 
in  the  wounds  they  make,  could  inflict  only  a  single 
injury.  And,  to  a  certain  extent,  it  is  so,  for  anger 
has  been  compared  to  a  ruin,  which,  in  falling  upon 
its  victims,  breake  itself  to  pieces.  Since,  then,  anger 
is  useless,  disgraceful,  without  the  least  apology,  and 
found  "only  in  the  bosom  of  fools,"  why  should  it  be 
indulged  at  all  ? 


AN  obstinate  man  does  not  hold  opinions,  but  they 
hold  him ;  for  when  he  is  once  possessed  of  an 
error,  it  is  like  a  devil,  only  cast  out  with  great  diffi- 
culty. Whatsoever  he  lays  hold  on,  like  a  drowning 
man,  he  never  loosens,  though  it  but  help  to  sink  him 
the  sooner.  Narrowness  of  mind  is  the  cause  of 


OBSTINACY.  293 

obstinacy.  We  do  not  easily  believe  what  is  beyond 
our  sight.  There  are  few,  very  few,  who  will  own 
themselves  in  a  mistake.  Obstinacy  is  a  barrier  to 
all  improvement.  Whoever  perversely  resolves  to 
adhere  to  plans  or  opinions,  be  they  right  or  be  they 
wrong,  because  such  plans  and  opinions  have  been 
already  adopted  by  him,  raises  an  impenetrable  bar 
to  conviction  and  information.  To  be  open  to  con- 
viction, speaks  a  wise  mind,  an  amiable  character. 
Human  nature  is  so  frail  and  so  ignorant,  so  liable  to 
misconception,  that  none  but  the  most  incorrigibly 
vain  can  pertinaciously  determine  to  abide  by  self-sug- 
gested sentiments,  unsanctioned  by  the  experience  or 
the  judgment  of  others,  as-  only  the  most  incurably 
foolish  can  be  satisfied  with  the  extent  of  their  knowl- 
edge. The  wiser  we  are,  the  more  we  are  aware  of 
our  ignorance.  Whoever  resolves  not  to  alter  his 
measures,  shuts  himself  out  from  all  possibility  of 
improvement,  and  must  die,  as  he  lives,  ignorant,  or 
at  best  but  imperfectly  informed. 

In  morals,  perhaps,  obstinacy  may  be  more  plausibly 
excused,  and,  under  the  misnomer  of  firmness,  be 
practiced  as  a  virtue.  But  the  line  between  obstinacy 
and  firmness  is  strong  and  decisive.  The  smallest 
share  of  common  sense  will  suffice  to  detect  it,  and 
there  is  little  doubt  that  few  people  pass  this  boundary 
without  being  conscious  of  the  fault. 

It  will  probably  be  found  that  those  qualities  which 
come  under  the  head  of  foibles,  rather  than  of  vices, 
render  people  most  intolerable  as  companions  and 
coadjutors.  For  example,  it  may  be  observed  that 


294  OBSTINACY. 

those  persons  have  a  more  worn,  jaded,  and  dispirited 
look  than  any  others,  who  have  to  live  with  people 
who  make  difficulties  on  every  occasion,  great  or  small. 
It  is  astonishing  to  see  how  this  practice  of  making 
difficulties  grows  into  a  confirmed  habit  of  mind,  and 
what  disheartenment  it  occasions.  The  savor  of  life 
is  taken  out  of  it  when  you  know  that  nothing  you 
propose  or  do,  or  suggest,  hope  for,  or  endeavor,  will 
meet  with  any  response  but  an  enumeration  of  diffi- 
culties that  lie  in  the  path  you  wish  to  travel.  The 
difficulty-monger  is  to  be  met  with  not  only  in  domes- 
tic and  social  life,  but  also  in  business.  It  not  unfre- 
quently  occurs  in  business  relations  that  the  chief  will 
never  by  any  chance,  without  many  objections  and 
much  bringing  forward  of  possible  difficulties,  approve 
of  anything  that  is  brought  to  him  by  his  subordinates. 
They  at  last  cease  to  take  pains,  knowing  that  no 
amount  of  pains  will  prevent  their  work  being  dealt 
with  in  a  spirit  of  ingenious  objectiveness.  At  last 
they  say  to  themselves,  "The  better  the  thing  we 
present,  the  more  opportunity  he  will  have  for  devel- 
oping his  unpleasant  task  of  objectiveness,  and  his 
imaginative  power  of  inventing  difficulties." 

Of  all  disagreeable  people,  the  obstinate  are  the 
worst.  Society  is  often  dragged  down  to  low  stan- 
dards by  two  or  three  who  propose,  in  every  case,  to 
fight  everything  and  every  idea  of  which  they  are  not 
the  instigators.  When  a  new  idea  is  brought  to  such 
persons,  instead  of  drawing  out  of  it  what  good  they 
can,  they  seek  to  get  the  bad,  ever  ready  to  head  a 
mountain  of  difficulties  upon  it. 


HYPOCRISY. 


But  there  are  situations  in  which  the  proper  opinions 
and  mode  of  conduct  are  not  evident.  In  such  cases 
we  must  maturely  reflect  ere  we  decide  ;  we  must  seek 
for  the  opinions  of  those  wiser  and  better  acquainted 
with  the  subject  than  ourselves  ;  we  must  candidly 
hear  all  that  can  be  said  on  both  sides  ;  then,  and 
only  then,  can  we  in  such  cases  hope  to  determine 
wisely  ;  but  the  decision,  once  so  deliberately  adopted, 
we  must  firmly  sustain,  and  never  yield  but  to  the 
most  unbiased  conviction  of  our  former  error. 


THERE  is  no  folly  in  the  world  so  great  as  to  be  a^ 
hypocrite.  The  hypocrite  is  hated  of  the  world  for 
seeming-  to  be  a  Christian ;  he  is  hated  by  God  for 
not  being  one.  He  hates  himself  and  he  is  even 
despised  by  Satan  for  serving  him  and  not  acknowl- 
edging it.  Hypocrites  are  really  the  best  followers 
and  the  greatest  dupes  that  Satan  has ;  they  serve 
him  better  than  any  other,  but  receive  no  wages. 
And,  what  is  most  wonderful,  they  submit  to  greater 
mortifications  to  go  to  hell  than  the  most  sincere 
Christian  to  go  to  heaven.  They  desire  more  to 
seem  good  than  to  be  so,  while  the  Christian  desires 
more  to  be  so  than  to  seem  so.  They  study  more  to 
enter  into  religion  than  that  religion  should  enter  into 
them.  They  are  zealous  in  little  things  but  cold  and 
remiss  in  the  most  important.  They  are  saints  by 


296  HYPOCRISY. 

pretension,  but  satans  in  intention.  They  testify,  they 
worship  only  to  answer  their  wicked  purposes.  They 
stand  as  angels  before  their  sins  so  as  to  hide  them. 
A  scorpion  thinks  when  its  head  is  under  a  leaf  it 
cannot  be  seen.  So  the  hypocrite.  The  false  saints 
think  when  they  have  hoisted  up  one  or  two  good 
works,  that  all  their  sins  therewith  are  covered  and 
hid. 

Let  us  ask  ourselves  seriously  and  honestly,  "What 
do  I  believe  after  all?  What  manner  of  man  am  I 
after  all  ?  What  sort  of  a  show  should  I  make  after 
all,  if  the  people  around  me  knew  my  heart  and  all 
my  secret  thoughts  ?  What  sort  of  a  show,  then,  do  I 
already  make,  in  the  sight  of  Almighty  God,  who 
sees  every  man  exactly  as  he  is?"  Oh,  that  poor 
soul,  though  it  may  fool  people  and  itself,  it  will  not 
fool  God! 

Hypocrisy  shows  love,  but  is  hatred;  shows  friend- 
ship, but  is  an  enemy;  shows  peace,  but  is  at  war;  it 
shows  virtue,  but  is  wretched  and  wicked.  It  flatters; 
it  curses;  it  praises;  it  slanders.  It  always  has  two 
sides  of  a  question;  it  possesses  what  it  does  not  pre- 
tend to,  and  pretends  to  what  it  does  not  possess. 

Men  are  afraid  of  slight  outward  acts  which  will 
injure  them  in  the  eyes  of  others,  while  they  are 
heedless  of  the  damnation  which  throbs  in  their  souls 
in  hatreds,  and  jealousies,  and  revenges. 

They  are  more  troubled  by  the  outburst  of  a  sinful 
disposition,  than  by  the  disposition  itself,  It  is  not 
the  evil,  but  its  reflex  effect  upon  themselves,  that 
they  dread.  It  is  the  love  of  approbation,  and  not 


HYPOCRISY.  297 

the  conscience,  that  enacts  the  part  of  a  moral  sense, 
in  this  case.  If  a  man  covet,  he  steals.  If  a  man 
have  murderous  hate,  he  murders.  If  a  man  brood 
dishonest  thoughts,  he  is  a  knave.  If  a  man  harbor 
sharp  and  bitter  jealousies,  envies,  hatreds,  though  he 
never  express  them  by  his  tongue,  or  shape  them  by 
his  hand,  they  are  there.  Society,  to  be  sure,  is  less 
injured  by  their  latent  existence  than  it  would  be  by 
their  overt  forms.  But  the  man  himself  is  as  much 
injured  by  the  cherished  thoughts  of  evil,  in  his  own 
soul,  as  by  the  open  commission  of  it,  and  sometimes 
even  more.  For  evil  brought  out  ceases  to  disguise 
itself,  and  seems  as  hideous  as  it  is.  But  evil  that 
lurks  and  glances  through  the  soul  avoids  analysis, 
and  evades  detection. 

There  are  many  good-seeming  men  who,  if  all 
their  day's  thoughts  and  feelings  were  to  be  suddenly 
developed  into  acts,  visible  to  the  eye,  would  run 
from  themselves,  as  men  in  earthquakes  run  from  the 
fiery  gapings  of  the  ground,  and  sulphurous  cracks 
that  open  the  way  to  the  uncooled  centre  of  per- 
dition. 

Pretension  !  profession  !  how  haughtily  they  stride 
into  the  kingdom  of  the  lowly  Redeemer,  and  usurp 
the  highest  seats,  and  put  on  the  robes  of  sanctity, 
and  sing  the  hymns  of  praise,  and  utter  aloud,  to  be 
heard  of  men,  the  prayers  which  the  spirit  ought  to 
breathe  in  silent  and  childlike  confidence  into  the  ear 
of  the  listening  and  loving  Father !  How  they  build 
high  domes  of  worship  with  velvety  seats  and  golden 
altars  and  censers'  and  costly  plate  and  baptismal 


298  HYPOCRISY. 

fonts  by  the  side  of  squalid  want  and  ragged  poverty  I 
How  their  mocking  prayers  mingle  with  the  cry  of 
beggary,  the  curse  of  blasphemy,  the  wail  of  pain 
and  the  lewd  laugh  of  sensuality  !  How  mournfully 
their  organ  chants  of  praise,  bought  with  sordid  gold, 
go  up  from  the  seats  of  worldliness  and  pride,  and 
how  reproachfully  the  tall  steeples  of  cathedrals  and 
synagogues  and  churches  look  down  on  the  oppres- 
sion and  pride  and  selfishness  which  assemble  below 
them,  and  the  slavery,  poverty,  and  intemperance 
which  pass  and  repass  their  marble  foundations  !  Oh! 
shade  of  religion,  where  art  thou  ?  Spirit  of  the  lowly 
bleeder  on  Calvary,  hast  thou  left  this  world  in  des- 
pair? Comforter  of  the  mourning,  dweller  with  the 
sinful,  how  long  shall  these  things  be?  Religion  is 
made  a  show-bubble.  Pride  is  her  handmaid,  and 
selfishness  her  leader.  What  a  tawdry  show  they 
make  !  And  who  believes  the  substance  is  equal  to 
the  show,  the  root  as  deep  as  the  tree  is  high,  the 
foundation  as  firm  as  the  structure  is  imposing?  No- 
where does  show  more  wickedly  usurp  the  dominion 
of  substance  than  in  the  realm  of  religion.  In  the 
world  we  might  expect  to  see  hypocrisy.  But  the 
true  religion  is  above  the  world.  "My  kingdom  is 
not  of  this  world,"  said  its  founder.  It  has  a  world 
of  its  own.  It  is  built  on  substance.  But  men  have 
sought  to  make  it  a  world  of  show,  to  carry  the 
deception  and  Pharisaism  of  this  world  up  into  the 
Redeemer's  world,  and  palm  them  off  there  for  the 
golden  reality  that  shall  be  admitted  to  heaven.  But 
poorly  will  hypocrisy  pass  at  the  bar  of  God.  No 


FRETTING    AND    GRUMBLING.  299 

coin  but  the  true  one  passes  there.  No  gilding  will 
hide  the  hollowness  of  a  false  soul.  No  tawdry  dis- 
plays will  avail  with  that  eye  whose  glance,  like  a 
sword,  pierces  to  the  heart.  All  is  open  there  ;  all 
hypocrisy,  vanity  ;  worse  than  vanity  ;  it  is  sin.  It  is 
a  gilded  lie,  a  varnished  cheat.  It  is  proof  of  the 
hollowness  within,  the  sign  of  corruption.  Yea,  more; 
it  is  itself  corrupting  ;  a  painted  temptation.  It  lures 
men  away  from  the  truth  ;  wastes  their  energies  on  a 
shadow  ;  wins  their  affections  to  fading  follies,  and 
gives  them  a  disrelish  for  the  real,  the  substantial,  and 
enduring.  Who  can  expect  that  God  will  not  hide  in 
every  hollow  show  intended  to  deceive,  a  sharp  two- 
edged  sword  that  shall  cut  with  disappointment,  and 
pierce  with  inward  wasting  want  ? 


nnA 


MANY  very  excellent  persons,  whose  lives  are  hon- 
orable and  whose  characters  are  noble,  pass  number- 
less hours  of  sadness  and  weariness  of  heart.  The 
fault  is  not  with  their  circumstances,  nor  yet  with 
their  general  characters,  but  with  themselves  that 
they  are  miserable.  They  have  failed  to  adopt  the 
true  philosophy  of  life.  They  wait  for  happiness  to 
come  instead  of  going  to  work  and  making  it  ;  and 
while  they  wait  they  torment  themselves  with  bor- 
rowed troubles,  with  fears,  forebodings,  morbid  fan- 


300  FRETTING    AND    GRUMBLING. 

cies  and  moody  spirits,  till  they  are  all  unfitted  for 
happiness  under  any  circumstances.  Sometimes  they 
cherish  unchaste  ambition,  covet  some  fancied  or  real 
good  which  they  do  not  deserve  and  could  not  enjoy 
if  it  were  theirs,  wealth  they  have  not  earned,  honors 
they  have  not  won,  attentions  they  have  not  merited, 
love  which  their  selfishness  only  craves.  Sometimes 
they  undervalue  the  good  they  do  possess ;  throw 
away  the  pearls  in  hand  for  some  beyond  their  reach, 
and  often  less  valuable ;  trample  the  flowers  about 
them  under  their  feet ;  long  for  some  never  seen,  but 
only  heard  or  read  of;  and  forget  present  duties  and 
joys  in  future  and  far-off  visions.  Sometimes  they 
shade  the  present  with  every  cloud  of  the  past,  and 
although  surrounded  by  a  thousand  inviting  duties 
and  pleasures,  revel  in  sad  memories  with  a  kind  of 
morbid  relish  for  the  stimulus  of  their  miseries. 
Sometimes,  forgetting  the  past  and  present,  they  live 
in  the  future,  not  in  its  probable  realities,  but  in  its 
most  improbable  visions  and  unreal  creations,  now  of 
good  and  then  of  evil,  wholly  unfitting  their  minds 
for  real  life  and  enjoyments.  These  morbid  and 
improper  states  of  mind  are  too  prevalent  among 
some  persons.  They  excite  that  nervous  irritability 
which  is  so  productive  of  pining  regrets  and  fretful 
complaints.  They  make  that  large  class  of  fretters 
who  enjoy  no  peace  themselves,  nor  permit  others  to 
enjoy  it.  In  the  domestic  circle  they  fret  their  life 
away.  Everything-  goes  wrong  with  them  because 
they  make  it  so.  The  smallest  annoyances  chafe  them 
as  though  they  were  unbearable  aggravations.  Their 


FRETTING    AND    GRUMBLING.  301 

business    and    duties    trouble    them    as  though  such 
things  were  not  good.      Pleasure  they  never  seem  to 
know  because  they  never  get  ready  to  enjoy  it.     Even 
the  common  movements  of  Providence  are  all  wrong 
with   them.     The   weather   is   never  as  it  should  be. 
The   seasons  roll  on  badly.     The  sun  is  never  pro- 
perly tempered.     The  climate  is  always  charged  with 
a  multitude   of  vices.     The  winds  are   everlastingly 
perverse,  either  too  high  or  too  low,  blowing  dus£  in 
everybody's  face,  or  not  fanning  them  as  they  should. 
The  earth  is  ever  out  of  humor,  too  dry  or  too  wet, 
too  muddy  or  dusty.     And  the  people  are  just  aboin; 
like   it.     Something  is   wrong  all   the  time,  and  the 
wrong  is  always  just  about  them.     Their  home  is  the 
worst  of  anybody's ;   their  street  and  their  neighbor- 
hood is  the  most  unpleasant  to  be  found ;  nobody  else 
has  so  bad  servants  and  so  many  annoyances  as  they. 
Their  lot  is  harder  than  falls    to  common    mortals ; 
they  have  to  work  harder  and  always  did ;  have  less 
and  always  expect  to.     They  have  seen  more  trouble 
than  other   folks   know   anything  about.     They    are 
never  so   well   as  their  neighbors,  and  they  always 
charge  all  their  unhappiness  upon  those  nearest  con- 
nected   with    them,    never    dreaming   that   they    are 
themselves  the  authors  of  it  all.     Such  people  are  to 
be  pitied.      Of    all    the    people   in     the    world    they 
deserve  most  our  compassion.     They  are  good  people 
in  many  respects,  very  benevolent,  very  conscientious, 
very  pious,  but,  withal,  very  annoying  to   themselves 
and  others.     As  a  general  rule,  their  goodness  makes 
them  more  difficult  to  cure  of  their  evil.     They  can- 


302  FRETTING    AND    GRUMBLING. 

not  be  led  to  see  that  they  are  at  fault.  Knowing 
their  virtues  they  cannot  see  their  faults.  They  do 
not,  perhaps,  overestimate  their  virtues ;  but  they  fail 
to  see  what  they  lack,  and  this  they  always  charge 
upon  others,  often  upon  those  who  love  them  best. 
They  see  others'actions  through  the  shadow  of  their 
own  fretful  and  gloomy  spirits.  Hence  it  is  that  they 
see  their  own  faults  as  existing  in  those  about  them, 
as  a  defect  in  the  eye  produces  the  appearance  of  a 
corresponding  defect  in  every  object  toward  which  it 
is  turned.  This  defect  in  character  is  more  generally 
the  result  of  vicious  or  improper  habits  of  mind,  than 
any  constitutional  idiosyncrasy.  It  is  the  result  of 
the  indulgence  of  gloomy  thoughts,  morbid  fancies, 
inordinate  ambition,  habitual  melancholy,  a  complain- 
ing, fault  finding  disposition. 

A  fretting  man  or  woman  is  one  of  the  most  unlov- 
able objects  in  the  world.  A  wasp  is  a  comfortable 
house-mate  in  comparison ;  it  only  stings  when  dis- 
turbed. But  an  habitual  fretter  buzzes  if  he  don't 
sting,  with  or  without  provocation.  "It  is  better  to 
dwell  in  the  corner  of  a  house-top  than  with  a  brawl- 
ing woman  and  in  a  wide  house."  Children  and 
servants  cease  to  respect  the  authority  or  obey  the 
commands  of  a  complaining,  worrisome,  exacting 
parent  or  master.  They  know  that  "barking  dogs 
don't  bite,"  and  fretters  don't  strike,  and  they  con- 
duct themselves  accordingly. 

If  we  are  faultless,  we  should  not  be  so  much 
annoyed  by  the  defects  of  those  with  whom  we  asso- 
ciate. If  we  were  to  acknowledge  honestly  that  we 


FRETTING    AND    GRUMBLING.  303 

have  not  virtue  enough  to  bear  patiently  with  our 
neighbors'  weaknesses,  we  should  show  our  own 
imperfection,  and  this  alarms  our  vanity. 

He  who  frets  is  never  the  one  who  mends,  heals, 
or  repairs  evils ;  more,  he  discourages,  enfeebles, 
and  too  often  disables  those  around  him,  who,  but 
for  the  gloom  and  depression  of  his  company,  would 
do  good  work  and  keep  up  brave  cheer.  And  when 
the  fretter  is  one  who  is  beloved,  whose  nearness  of 
relation  to  us  makes  his  fretting,  even  at  the  weather, 
seem  almost  like  a  personal  reproach  to  us,  then  the 
misery  of  it  becomes  indeed  insupportable.  Most 
men  call  fretting  a  minor  fault,  a  foible,  and  not  a 
vice.  There  is  no  vice  except  drunkenness  which 
can  so  utterly  destroy  the  peace,  the  happiness  of  a 
home.  We  never  knew  a  scolding  person  that  was 
able  to  govern  a  family.  What  makes  people  scold  ? 
Because  they  cannot  govern  themselves.  How  can 
they  govern  others?  Those  who  govern  well  are 
generally  calm.  They  are  prompt  and  resolute,  but 
steady. 

It  is  not  work  that  kills  men,  it  is  worry.  Work  is 
healthy ;  you  can  hardly  put  more  on  a  man  than  he 
can  bear.  Worry  is  rust  upon  the  blade.  It  is%  not 
the  revolution  that  destroys  the  machinery,  but  the 
friction.  Fear  secretes  acids,  but  Jove  and  trust  are 
sweet  juices.  The  man  or  woman  who  goes  through 
the  world  grumbling  and  fretting,  is  not  only  violating 
the  laws  of  God,  but  is  a  sinner  against  the  peace  and 
harmony  of  society,  and  is,  and  of  right  ought  to  be, 
shunned  accordingly.  They  are  always  in  hot  water, 


304  FRETTING    AND    GRUMBLING. 

forever  in  trouble.  They  throw  the  blame  of  their 
own  misdeeds  and  want  of  judgment  upon  others, 
and  if  one  might  believe  them,  society  would  be 
found  in  a  shocking  state.  They  rail  at  everything, 
lofty  or  lowly,  and  when  they  have  no  grumbling  to 
do  they  begin  to  deprecate.  They  endeavor  to  make 
good  actions  seem  contemptible  in  other  men's  eyes, 
and  try  to  belittle  every  noble  and  praiseworthy 
enterprise  by  casting  suspicion  upon  the  motives  of 
those  connected  with  it.  Such  individuals,  whether 
men  or  women,  are  an  incubus  on  any  society,  and 
the  best  way  to  paralyze  their  efforts  to  create  dis- 
cord, is  to  ignore  them  altogether.  Let  grumblers 
form  a  select  circle  by  themselves.  Let  them  herd 
together;  give  them  the  cold  shoulder  when  they 
appear,  and  make  them  uncomfortable  during  their 
sojourn,  and  if  they  cannot  be  cured  they  may  be 
more  easily  endured,  and  perhaps  discover  the  error 
of  their  ways  and  reform. 

An  Englishman  dearly  likes,  says  Punch,  to  grum- 
ble, no  matter  whether  he  be  right  or  wrong,  crying 
or  laughing,  working  or  playing,  gaining  a  victory  or 
smarting  under  a  national  humiliation,  paying  or  being 
paid — -still  he  must  grumble,  and,  in  fact,  he  is  never 
so  happy  as  when  he  is  grumbling ;  and,  supposing 
everything  was  to  our  satisfaction  (though  it  says  a 
great  deal  for  our  power  of  assumption  to  assume  any 
such  absurd  impossibility),  still  he  would  grumble  at 
the  fact  of  there  being  nothing  for  him  to  grumble 
about. 

There  are  two  things  about  which  we  should  never 


FAULT    ENDING.  3Q5 

grumble :  the  first  is  that  which  we  cannot  help,  and 
the  other  that  which  we  can  help. 


A  MAN  would  get  a  very  false  notion  of  his  stand- 
ing among  his  friends  and  acquaintances  if  it  were 
possible — as  many  would  like  to  have  it  possible  — 
to  know  what  is  said  of  him  behind  his  back.  One 
day  he  would  go  about  in  a  glow  of  self-esteem,  asd 
the  next  he  would  be  bowed  under  a  miserable  sense 
of  misapprehension  and  disgust.  It  would  be  impos- 
sible for  him  to  put  this  and  that  together  and  "  strike 
an  average."  The  fact  is,  there  is  a  strange  human 
tendency  to  take  the  present  friend  into  present  con- 
fidence. With  strong  natures  mis  ..endency  proves 
often  a  stumbling-block ;  with  weak  natures  it  amounts 
to  fickleness.  It  is  a  proof,  no  doubt,  of  the  universal 
brotherhood ;  but  one  has  to  watch,  lest,  in  an  un- 
guarded moment  it  lead  him  into  ever  so  slight  dis- 
loyalty to  the  absent. 

Never  employ  yourself  to  discover  the  faults  of 
others  —  look  to  your  own.  You  had  better  find  out 
one  of  your  own  faults  than  ten  of  your  neighbor's. 
When  a  thing  does  not  suit  you,  think  of  some  pleas- 
ant quality  in  it.  There  is  nothing  so  bad  as  it  might 
be.  Whenever  you  catch  yourself  in  a  fault-finding 
remark,  say  some  approving  one  in  the  same  breath, 
20 


306  FAULT    FINDING. 

and  you  will  soon  be  cured.  Since  the  best  of  us 
have  too  many  infirmities  to  answer  for,  says  Dean 
Swift,  we  ought  not  to  be  too  severe  upon  those  of 
others ;  and,  therefore,  if  our  brother  is  in  trouble,  we 
ought  to  help  him,  without  inquiring  over-seriously 
what  produced  it. 

Those  who  have  the  fewest  resources  in  themselves 
naturally  seek  the  food  of  their  self-love  elsewhere. 
The  most  ignorant  people  find  most  to  laugh  at  in 
strangers ;  scandal  and  satire  prevail  most  in  small 
places ;  and  the  propensity  to  ridicule  the  slightest  or 
most  palpable  deviation  from  what  we  happen  to 
approve,  ceases  with  the  progress  of  common  sense 
and  decency.  True  worth  does  not  exult  in  the 
faults  and  deficiency  of  others ;  as  true  refinement 
turns  away  from  grossness  and  deformity,  instead  of 
being  tempted  to  indulge  in  an  unmanly  triumph  over 
it.  Raphael  would  not  faint  away  at  the  daubing  of 
a  sign-post,  nor  Homer  hold  his  head  higher  for  being 
in  the  company  of  a  "great  bard."  Real  power,  real 
excellence  does  not  seek  for  a  foil  in  imperfection  ;  nor 
fear  contamination  from  coming  in  contact  with  that 
which  is  coarse  and  homely.  It  reposes  on  itself, 
and  is  equally  free  from  envy  and  affectation.  There 
are  some  persons  who  seem  to  purposely  treasure  up 
things  that  are  disagreeable. 

The  tongue  that  feeds  on  mischief,  the  babbling, 
the  tattling,  the  sly  whispering,  the  impertinent  med- 
dling, all  these  tongues  are  trespassing  on  the  com- 
munity constantly.  The  fiery  tongue  is  also  abroad, 
and  being  set  on  fire  of  hell,  scatters  firebrands  among 


FAULT    FINDING.  30? 

friends,  sets  families,  neighborhoods,  churches,  and 
social  circles  in  a  flame ;  and.  like  the  salamander,  is 
wretched  when  out  of  the  burning"  element.  The 
black  slandering  tongue  is  constantly  preying  upon 
the  rose  buds  of  innocence  and  virtue,  the  foliage  of 
merit,  worth,  genius,  and  talent ;  and  poisons  with  its 
filth  of  innuendoes  and  scum  of  falsehood,  the  most 
brilliant  flowers,  the  most  useful  shrubs,  and  the  most 
valuable  trees  in  the  garden  of  private  and  public 
reputation.  Not  content  with  its  own  base  exertions, 
it  leagues  with  the  envious,  jealous,  and  revengeful 
tongues ;  and,  aided  by  this  trio,  sufficient  venom  is 
combined  to  make  a  second  Pandemonium ;  and  mal- 
ice enough  to  fill  it  with  demons.  Slander  can  swallow 
perjury  like  water,  digest  forgery  as  readily  as  Graham 
bread,  convert  white  into  black;  truth  into  falsehood, 
good  into  evil,  innocence  into  crime,  and  metamor- 
phose every  thing  which  stands  in  the  current  of  its 
polluted  and  polluting  breath. 

We  can  understand  how  a  boy  that  never  had  been 
taught  better  might  carry  torpedoes  in  his  pocket,  and 
delight  to  throw  them  down  at  the  feet  of  passers-by 
and  see  them  bound ;  but  we  cannot  understand  how 
an  instructed  and  well-meaning  person  could  do  such 
a  thing.  And  yet  there  are  men  who  carry  torpedoes 
all  their  life,  and  take  pleasure  in  tossing  them  at 
people.  "Oh!"  they  say,  "I  have  something  now, 
and  when  I  meet  that  man  I  will  give  it  to  him." 
And  they  wait  for  the  right  company  and  the  right 
circumstances,  and  then  they  out  with  the  most  disa- 
greeable things.  And  if  they  are  remonstrated  with, 


308  FAULT    FINDING. 

they  say,  "It  is  true,"  as  if  that  were  a  justification  of 
their  conduct.  If  God  should  take  all  the  things  that 
are  true  of  you,  and  make  a  scourge  of  them,  and 
whip  you  with  it,  you  would  be  the  most  miserable  of 
men.  But  he  does  not  use  all  the  truth  on  you. 
And  is  there  no  law  of  kindness  ?  Is  there  no  desire 
to  please  and  profit  men  ?  Have  you  a  right  to  take 
any  little  story  that  you  can  pick  up  about  a  man,  and 
use  it  in  such  a  way  as  to  injure  him,  or  give  him  pain  ? 
And  yet,  how  many  men  there  are  that  seem  to  enjoy 
nothing  so  much  as  inflicting  exquisite  suffering  upon 
a  man  in  this  way,  when  he  cannot  help  himself? 
Well,  you  know  just  how  the  devil  feels.  Whenever 
he  has  done  anything  wicked,  and  has  made  some- 
body very  unhappy,  and  laughs,  he  feels  just  as,  for 
the  time  being,  you  feel  when  you  have  done  a  cruel 
thing,  and  somebody  is  hurt,  and  it  does  you  good. 

By  the  rules  of  justice,  no  man  ought  to  be  ridi- 
culed for  any  imperfection  who  does  not  set  up  for 
eminent  sufficiency  in  that  wherein  he  is  defective. 
If  thou  wouldst  bear  thy  neighbor's  faults,  cast  thy 
eyes  upon  thy  own. 

It  is  easier  to  avoid  a  fault  than  to  acquire  a  per- 
fection. By  others'  faults  wise  men  correct  their 
own.  He  that  contemns  a  small  fault  commits  a 
great  one.  The  greatest  of  all  faults  is  to  believe  we 
have  none.  Little  minds  ignore  their  own  weakness, 
and  carp  at  the  defects  of  the  great ;  but  great  minds 
are  sensible  of  their  own  faults,  and  largely  compas- 
sionate toward  inferiors. 

Beecher  says;      "When  the  absent  are  spoken  of, 


FAULT    FINDING.  309 

some  will  speak  gold  of  them,  some  silver,  some  iron, 
some  lead,  and  some  always  speak  dirt ;  for  they  have 
a  natural  attraction  toward  what  is  evil  and  think  it 
shows  penetration  in  them.  As  a  cat  watching  for 
mice  does  not  look  up  though  an  elephant  goes  by, 
so  they  are  so  busy  mousing  for  defects  that  they  let 
great  excellences  pass  them  unnoticed.  I  will  not 
say  that  it  is  not  Christian  to  make  beads  of  others' 
faults,  and  tell  them  over  every  day ;  I  say  it  is  infer- 
nal. If  you  want  to  know  how  the  devil  feels,  you 
do  know  if  you  are  such  a  one." 

There  are  no  such  disagreeable  people  in  the  world 
as  those  who  are  forever  seeking  their  own  improve- 
ment, and  disquieting  themselves  about  this  fault  and 
that ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  an  unconscious 
merit  which  wins  more  good  than  all  the  theoretically 
virtuous  in  the  wide  world. 

What  a  world  of  gossip  would  be  prevented,  if  it 
were  only  remembered  that  a  person  who  tells  you  the 
faults  of  others  intends  to  tell  others  of  your  faults. 
Every  one  has  his  faults ;  every  man  his  ruling  pas- 
sion.  The  eye  that  sees  all  things  sees  not  itself. 
That  man  hath  but  an  ill  life  of  it,  who  feeds  himself 
with  the  faults  and  frailties  of  other  people.  Were 
not  curiosity  the  purveyor,  detraction  would  soon  be 
starved  into  tameness. 

To  a  pure,  sensitive,  and  affectionate  mind,  every 
act  of  finding  fault,  or  dealing  in  condemnation,  is  an 
act  of  pain.  It  is  only  when  we  have  become  callous 
to  the  world,  and  strangers  to  the  sentiments  of  com- 
passionate love,  that  we  are  able  to  play  with  uncon- 


310  -ENVY. 

cern  the  parts  of  persecutors  and  slanderers,  and  that 
we  can  derive  any  pleasure  from  malignity  and 
revenge.  He  who  is  the  first  to  condemn,  will  be 


often  the  last  to  forgive. 


ENVY'S  memory  is  nothing  but  a  row  of  hooks  to 
hang  up  grudges  on.  Some  people's  sensibility  is 
a  mere  bundle  of  aversions,  and  you  hear  them  display 
and  parade  it,  not  in  recounting  the  things  they  are 
attached  to,  but  in  telling  you  how  many  things  and 
persons  they  "cannot  bear." 

Envy  is  not  merely  a  perverseness  of  temper,  but 
it  is  such  a  distemper  of  the  mind  as  disorders  all  the 
faculties  of  it.  It  began  with  Satan  ;  for  when  he  fell 
he  could  see  nothing  to  please  him  in  Paradise,  and 
envied  our  first  parents  when  in  innocence,  and  there- 
fore tempted  them  to  sin,  which  ruined  them,  and  all 
the  human  race.  Mr.  Locke  tells  us  that  upon  asking 
a  blind  man  what  he  thought  scarlet  was,  he  answered 
he  believed  it  was  like  the  sound  of  a  trumpet.  He 
was  forced  to  form  his  conceptions  of  ideas  which  he 
had  not,  by  those  which  he  had.  In  the  same  manner, 
though  an  envious  man  cannot  but  see  perfections,  yet 
having  contracted  the  distemper  of  acquired  blindness, 
he  will  not  own  them,  but  is  always  degrading  or 
misrepresenting  things  which  are  excellent.  Thus, 
point  out  a  pious  person,  and  ask  the  envious  man 


ENVY. 


v  hat  he  thinks  of  him,  he  will  say  he  is  a  hypocrite, 
ot  deceitful  ;  praise  a  man  of  learning  or  of  great 
abilities,  and  he  will  say  he  is  a  pedant,  or  proud  of 
his  attainments  ;  mention  a  beautiful  woman,  and  he 
will  either  slander  her  chastity  or  charge  her  with 
affectation  ;  show  him  a  fine  poem  or  painting,  and 
he  will  call  the  one  "stiff,"  and  the  other  a  "daubing." 
In  this  way  he  depreciates  or  deforms  every  pleasing 
object.  With  respect  to  other  vices,  it  is  frequently 
seen  that  many  confess  and  forsake  them  ;  but  this  is 
not  often  the  case  with  respect  to  this  vice,  for  as  the 
person  afflicted  with  this  evil  knows  very  well  to  own 
that  we  envy  a  man  is  to  allow  him  to  be  a  superior, 
his  pride  will  not  therefore  permit  him  to  make  any 
concession,  if  accused  of  indulging  this  base  principle, 
but  he  becomes  more  violent  against  the  person 
envied,  and  generally  remains  incurable. 

Like  Milton's  fiend  in  Paradise,  he  sees,  unde- 
lighted,  all  delight.  The  brightness  of  prosperity 
that  surrounds  others,  pains  the  eyes  of  .the  envious 
man  more  than  the  meridian  rays  of  the  sun.  It 
starts  the  involuntary  tear,  and  cas^s  a  gloom  over 
his  mind.  It  brings  into  action  jealousy,  revenge, 
falsehood,  and  the  basest  passions  of  the  faHen 
nature  of  man.  It  g-oads  him  onward  with  a  fearful 

c> 

impetus,  like  a  locomotive  ;  and  often  runs  his  car  off 
the  track,  dashes  it  in  pieces,  and  he  is  left,  bruised 
and  bleeding.  Like  the  cuttle-fish,  he  emits  his 
black  venom  for  the  purpose  of  darkening  the  clear 
waters  that  surround  his  prosperous  neighbors  ;  and, 
like  that  phenomenon  of  the  sea,  the  inky  substance 


312  ENVY- 

is  confined  to  a  narrow  circumference,  and  only  tends 
to  hide  himself.  The  success  of  those  around  him 
throws  him  into  convulsions,  and,  like  a  man  with  the 
delirium  tremens,  he  imagines  all  who  approach  him 
demons,  seeking  to  devour  him.  Like  Haman,  he 
often  erects  his  own  gallows  in  his  zeal  to  hang  others. 
His  mind  is  like  the  troubled  sea,  casting  up  the  mire 
of  revenge.  "Dionysius,  the  tyrant,"  says  Plutarch, 
"out  of  envy,  punished  Philoxenius,  the  musician, 
because  he  could  sing ;  and  Plato,  the  philosopher, 
because  he  could  dispute  better  than  himself." 

Envy  is  a  sentiment  that  desires  to  equal,  or  excel 
the  efforts  of  compeers ;  not  so  much  by  increasing 
our  own  toil  and  ingenuity,  as  by  diminishing  the 
merit  due  to  the  efforts  of  others.  It  seeks  to  elevate 
itself  by  the  degradation  of  others ;  it  detests  the 
sounds  of  another's  praise,  and  deems  no  renown  . 
acceptable  that  must  be  shared.  Hence,  when  dis- 
appointments occur,  they  fall,  with  unrelieved  violence, 
and  the  sense  of  discomfited  rivalry  gives  poignancy 
to  the  blow. 

How  is  envy  exemplified?  A  worm  defiling  the 
healthful  blossom  —  a  mildew,  blasting  the  promised 
harvest.  How  true,  yet  how  forbidding  an  image  of 
the  progress  of  envy !  And  would  any  rational  crea- 
ture be  willingly  the  worm  that  defiles  the  pure  blos- 
soms of  virtue,  the  mildew  that  blasts  the  promised 
harvest  of  human  talent,  or  of  human  happiness  ? 

And  what  produces  envy  ?  The  excellence  of 
another.  Humiliating  deduction !  Envy  is,  then, 
only  the  expression  of  inferiority  —  the  avowal  of 


ENVY. 


deficiency  —  the  homage  paid  to  excellence.  Let 
pride,  for  once,  be  virtue,  and  urge  the  extinction  of 
this  baneful  passion,  since  its  indulgence  can  only 
produce  shame  and  regret.  Envy  is  unquestionably, 
a  high  compliment,  but  a  most  ungracious  one.  An 
envious  man  repines  as  much  at  the  manner  in  which 
his  neighbors  live  as  if  he  maintained  them.  Some 
people  as  much  envy  others  a  good  name,  as  they 
want  it  themselves,  and  that  is  the  reason  of  it.  Envy 
is  fixed  on  merit  ;  and,  like  a  sore  eye,  is  offended 
with  anything  that  is  bright.  Envy  increases  in  exact 
proportion  with  fame  ;  the  man  that  makes  a  charac- 
ter makes  enemies.  A  radiant  genius  calls  forth 
swarms  of  peevish,  biting,  stinging  insects,  just  as 
the  sunshine  awakens  the  world  of  flies.  Virtue  is 
not  secure  against  envy.  Evil  men  will  lessen  what 
they  won't  imitate.  If  a  man  be  good,  he  is  envied  ; 
if  evil,  himself  is  envious.  Envious  people  are 
doubly  miserable,  in  being  afflicted  with  others'  pros- 
perity and  their  own  adversity. 

Envy  is  a  weed  that  grows  in  all  soils  and  climates, 
and  is  no  less  luxuriant  in  the  country  than  in  the 
court;  is  not  confined  to  any  rank  of  men  or  extent 
of  fortune,  but  rages  in  the  breasts  of  all  degrees. 
Alexander  was  not  prouder  than  Diogenes  ;  and  it 
may  be,  if  we  would  endeavor  to  surprise  it  in  its 
most  gaudy  dress  and  attire,  and  in  the  exercise  of  its 
full  empire  and  tyranny,  we  should  find  it  in  school- 
masters and  scholars,  or  in  some  country  lady,  or  her 
husband;  all  which  ranks  of  people  more  despise 
their  neighbors  than  all  the  degrees  of  honor  in 


314  ,      ENVY. 

which  courts  abound,  and  it  rages  as  much  in  a  sor- 
did affected  dress  as  in  all  the  silks  and  embroideries 
which  the  excess  of  the  age  and  the  folly  of  youth 
delight  to  be  adorned  with.  Since,  then,  it  keeps  all 
sorts  of  company,  and  wriggles  itself  into  the  liking 
of  the  most  contrary  natures  and  dispositions,  and 
yet  carries  so  much  poison  and  venom  with  it  that  it 
alienates  the  affections  from  heaven,  and  raises  rebel- 
lion against  God  himself,  it  is  worth  our  utmost  care 
to  watch  it  in  all  its  disguises  and  approaches,  that 
we  may  discover  it  in  its  first  entrance  and  dislodge 
it  before  it  procures  a  shelter  or  retiring  place  to 
lodge  and  conceal  itself. 

Envy,  like  a  cold  poison,  benumbs  and  stupefies  ; 
and  thus,  as  if  conscious  of  its  own  impotence,  it  folds 
its  arms  in  despair  and  sits  cursing  in  a  corner. 
When  it  conquers  it  is  commonly  in  the  dark,  by 
treachery  and  undermining,  by  calumny  and  detrac- 
tion. Envy  is  no  less  foolish  than  detestable ;  it  is  a 
vice  which,  they  say,  keeps  no  holiday,  but  is  always 
in  the  wheel,  and  working  upon  its  own  disquiet. 
Envy,  jealousy,  scorpions  and  rattlesnakes  can  be 
made  to  sting  themselves  to  death.  He  whose  first 
emotion  on  the  view  of  an  excellent  production  is  to 
undervalue  it,  will  never  have  one  of  his  own  to  show. 

Reader,  if  envy  is  rankling  in  your  bosom,  declare 
war  against  it  at  once ;  a  war  of  extermination ;  no 
truce,  no  treaty,  no  compromise.  Like  the  pirate  on 
the  high  seas,  it  is  an  outlaw,  an  enemy  to  all  man- 
kind, and  should  be  hanged  up  at  the  yard  arm  until 
it  is  dead,  DEAD,  DEAD. 


SLANDER. 


Wffrff* 

"That  abominable  tittle-tattle, 
The  cud  eschew'd  by  human  cattle.  " 

—  BYRON. 

SLANDER  is  a  blighting  sirocco  ;  its  pestiferous 
breath  pollutes  with  each  respiration  ;  its  forked 
tongue  is  charged  with  the  same  poison  ;  it  searches 
all  corners  of  the  world  for  victims  ;  it  sacrifices  the 
high  and  the  low,  the  king  and  the  peasant,  the  rich 
and  the  poor,  the  matron  and  maid,  the  living  and 
the  dead  ;  but  delights  most  in  destroying  worth,  and 
immolating  innocence.  Lacon  has  justly  remarked: 
"Calumny  crosses  oceans,  scales  mountains,  and  tra- 
verses deserts  with  greater  ease  than  the  Scythian 
Abaris,  and,  like  him,  rides  upon  a  poisoned  arrow." 
As  the  Samiel  wind  of  the  Arabian  desert  not  only- 
produces  death,  but  causes  the  most  rapid  decompo- 
sition of  the  body,  so  calumny  affects  fame,  honor, 
integrity,  worth,  and  virtue.  The  base,  cloven-footed 
calumniator,  like  the  loathsome  worm,  leaves  his  path 
marked  with  the  filth  of  malice  and  scum  of  falsehood, 
and  pollutes  the  fairest  flowers,  the  choicest  fruits, 
the  most  delicate  plants  in  a  green-house  of  charac- 
ter. Living,  he  is  a  traveling  pest,  and  worse,  dying- 
impenitent,  his  soul  is  too  deeply  stained  for  hell. 
Oh,  reader  never  slander  the  name  of  another.  A 
writer  once  said:  "So  deep  does  the  slanderer  sink 
in  the  murky  waters  of  degradation  and  infamy,  that 
'ould  an  angel  apply  an  Archimedian  moral  lever  to 


316  SLANDER. 

him,  with  heaven  for  a  fulcrum,  he  could  not,  in  a 
thousand  years,  raise  him  to  the  grade  of  a  convict 
felon." 

SLANDER ; 

Whose  edge  is  sharper  than  the  sword  ;  whose  tongue 
Out-venoms  all  the  worms  of  Nile  ;  whose  breath 
Rides  on  the  posting  winds,  and  doth  belie 
All  corners  of  the  world :    Kings,  queens,  and  states, 
Maids,  matrons,  nay,  the  secrets  of  the  grave 
This  viperous  slander  enters. 

It  is  a  melancholy  reflection  upon  human  nature,  to 
see  how  small  a  matter  will  put  the  ball  of  scandal  in 
motion.  A  mere  hint,  a  significant  look,  a  mysterious 
countenance ;  directing"  attention  to  a  particular  per- 
son ;  often  gives  an  alarming  impetus  to  this  ignis 
fatuus.  A  mere  interrogatory  is  converted  into  an 
affirmative  assertion  —  the  cry  of  mad  dog  is  raised 
—  the  mass  join  in  the  chase,  and  not  unfrequently,  a 
mortal  wound  is  inflicted  on  the  innocent  and  meri- 
torious, perhaps  by  one  who  had  no  ill-will,  or  desire 
to  do  wrong  in  any  case. 

There  is  a  sad  propensity  in  our  fallen  nature  to 
listen  to  the  retailers  of  petty  scandal.  With  many, 
it  is  the  spice  of  conversation,  the  exhilarating  gas  of 
their  minds.  Without  any  intention  of  doing  essential 
injury  to  a  neighbor,  a  careless  remark,  relative  to 
some  minor  fault  of  his,  may  be  seized  by  a  babbler, 
and,  as  it  passes  through  the  babbling  tribe,  each  one 
adds  to  its  bulk,  and  gives  its  color  a  darker  hue, 
until  it  assumes  the  magnitude  and  blackness  of  base 
slander.  Few  are  without  visible  faults  —  most  per- 
sons are  sometimes  inconsistent.  Upon  these  faults 


SLANDER.  317 

and  mistakes,  petty  scandal  delights  to  feast.  Nor 
are  those  safe  from  the  filth  and  scum  of  this  poison- 
ous tribe  who  are  free  from  external  blemishes.  Envy 
and  jealousy  can  start  the  blood-hound  of  suspicion ; 
create  a  noise  that  will  attract  attention,  and  many 
may  be  led  to  suppose  there  is  game,  when  there  is 
nothing  but  thin  air.  An  unjust  and  unfavorable 
innuendo  is  started  against  a  person  of  unblemished 
character;  it  gathers  force  as  it  is  rolled  through 
Babbletown  —  it  soon  assumes  the  dignity  of  a  prob- 
lem—  is  solved  by  the  rule  of  double  position,  and 
the  result  increased  by  geometrical  progression  and 
permutation  of  quantities ;  and  before  truth  can  get 
her  shoes  on,  a  stain,  deep  and  damning,  has  been 
stamped  on  the  fair  fame  of  an  innocent  victim,  by  an 
unknown  hand.  To  trace  calumny  back  to  the  small 
fountain  of  petty  scandal,  is  often  impossible ;  and 
always  more  difficult  than  to  find  the  source  of  the 
Nile. 

Insects  and  reptiles  there  are  which  fulfill  the  ends  of 
their  existence  by  tormenting  us  ;  so  some  minds  and 
dispositions  accomplish  their  destiny  by  increasing 
our  misery,  and  making  us  more  discontented  and 
unhappy.  Cruel  and  false  is  he  who  builds  his  pleas- 
ure upon  my  pain,  or  his  glory  upon  my  shame. 

Shun  evil-epeaking.  Deal  tenderly  with  the  absent; 
say  nothing  to  inflict  a  wound  on  their  reputation. 
They  may  be  wrong  and  wicked,  yet  your  knowledge 
of  it  does  not  oblige  you  to  disclose  their  character, 
except  to  save  others  from  injury.  Then  do  it  in  a 
way  that  bespeaks  a  spirit  of  kindness  for  the  absent 


318  SLANDER. 

offender.  Re  not  hasty  to  credit  evil  reports.  They 
are  often  the  result  of  misunderstanding,  or  of  evil 
design,  or  they  proceed  from  an  exaggerated  or  par- 
tial disclosure  of  facts.  Wait  and  learn  the  whole 
story  before  you  decide ;  then  believe  just  what  evi- 
dence compels  you  to  and  no  more.  But  even  then, 
take  heed  not  to  indulge  the  least  unkindness,  else 
you  dissipate  all  the  spirit  of  prayer  for  them  and 
unnerve  yourself  for  doing  them  good.  We  are 
nearer  the  truth  in  thinking  well  of  persons  than  ill. 
Human  nature  is  a  tree  bearing  good  as  well  as  evil, 
but  our  eyes  are  wide  open  to  the  latter  and  half 
closed  to  the  former.  Believe  but  half  the  ill  and 
credit  twice  the  good  said  of  your  neighbor. 

A  glance,  a  gesture,  or  an  intonation,  may  be  vital 
with  falsehood,  sinking  a  heavy  shaft  of  cruelty  deep 
into  the  injured  soul  —  though  truth,  in  its  all-disclos- 
ing effulgence,  will,  sooner  or  later,  disperse  the  mists 
and  doom  the  falsifier  to  deserved  aversion ;  still,  the 
exposure  of  the  guilty  does  not  recompense  the  in- 
jured any  more  than  the  bruising  of  the  serpent  heals 
the  wound  made  by  his  barbed  fang.  An  injurious 
rumor — originating,  perhaps,  in  some  sportive  gossip 

—  once  attached  to  a  person's  name,  will  remain  beside 
it  a  blemish  and  doubt  for  ever.  Especially  is  this 
true  of  the  fair  sex,  many  of  whom  have,  from  this 
cause,  withered  and  melted  in  their  youth  like  snow 

in  the  spring,  shedding  burning  tears  of  sadness  over 
the  world's  unkindness  and  "man's  inhumanity  to 
man." 

Among  many  species  of  animals,  if  one  of  their 


SLANDER.  319 

number  is  wcunded  and  falls,  he  is  at  once  torn  to 
pieces  by  his  fellows.  Traces  of  this  animal  cruelty 
are  seen  in  men  and  women  to-day.  Let  a  woman 
fall  from  virtue  and  nine-tenths  cf  her  sisters  will  turn 
and  tear  her  to  pieces,  and  the  next  day  smile  on  the 
man  who  ruined  her !  The  cruelty  of  woman  to 
woman  is  perfectly  wolfish.  O,  shame !  Reverse 
the  action.  Loathing-  for  the  unrepentant  wretch  and 
tenderness  for  the  wounded  sister.  Tenderness  and 
pity  and  help  for  both  alike  if  they  repent  and 
reform.  But  never  trust  him  who  has  been  a  betrayer 
once.  No  kindness  demands  this  risk.  The  smell 
of  blood  is  too  strong  for  the  tamed  tiger. 

There  is  a  natural  inclination  in  almost  all  persons 
to  pelt  others  with  stones.  Our  right  hands  ache  to 
throw  them.  There  is  such  wicked  enjoyment  in 
seeing  the  victims  dodge  and  flinch  and  run.  This 
is  human  nature  in  the  rough.  There  are  so  many 
who  never  get  out  of  the  rough.  There  are  multi- 
tudes of  respectable  people  who  evince  exquisite 
pleasure  in  making  others  smart.  There  is  a  good 
deal  of  the  Indian — the  uncivilized  man  —  in  us  all 
yet.  It  has  not  been  wholly  eliminated  or  educated 
out  of  us  by  the  boasted  enlightenment  and  civiliza- 
tion of  the  age.  A  great  deal  of  pharisaic  zeal  to 
stone  others  who  are  no  more  guilty  than  we  are  still 
exists.  It  is  often  the  crafty  cry  of  "Stop  thief!"  to 
divert  attention  from  ourselves.  A  thief  snatched  a 
diamond  ring  from  a  jewler's  tray  and  dodged  around 
the  corner  into  the  crowded  street.  The  clerk'  ran 
out  crying  "  Stop  thief !"  The  rascal  eluded  attention 


320  VANITY. 

by  taking  up  the  cry  and  vociferating  as  if  of  one 
^head,  "Stop  thief!  stop  thief!" 

It  takes  a  bloodthirsty  wretch  to  be  a  prosecutor 
and  inquisitor.  The  vulture  loves  to  disembowel  his 
victim  and  wet  his  beak  in  blood.  Who  ever  heard 
of  a  dove  rending  the  breast  of  a  robin,  or  a  lamb 
sucking  the  blood  of  a  kid  ?  Hawks  and  tigers  de- 
light in  this.  No !  nature  will  out.  If  Christianity 
has  not  cut  off  the  claws,  we  incline  to  scratch  some- 
body. If  Christ  possesses  us  wholly,  and  we  have 
been  transformed  by  His  spirit,  there  is  no  disposi- 
tion to  stone  our  neighbor,  even  if  at  fault.  It  is  not 
in  the  genius  of  Christianity  to  do  it.  It  is  a  cancer 
in  the  soul  that  must  be  cut  out,  or  burned  out,  or 
purged  out  of  the  blood,  or  it  wjll  kill  us. 

Alexander  had  an  ugly  scar  on  his  forehead,  received 
in  battle.  When  the  great  artist  painted  his  portrait, 
he  sketched  him  leaning  on  his  elbow,  with  his  finger 
covering  the  scar  on  his  forehead.  There  was  the 
likeness  with  the  scar  hidden.  So  let  us  study  to 
paint  each  other  with  the  finger  of  charity  upon  the 
scar  of  a  brother,  hiding  the  ugly  mark  and  revealing 
only  the  beautiful,  the  true  and  the  good. 


THIS  propensity  pervades  the  whole  human  family, 
to  a  less  or  greater  degree,  as  the  atmosphere  does 
the  globe.  It  is  the  froth  and  effervescence  of  pride. 


VANITY.  321 

The  latter  is  unyielding  haughtiness,  the  former,  as 
soft,  pliant,  and  light,  as  the  down  of  a  swan.  It  is 
selfishness  modified  and  puffed  up,  like  a  bladder  with 
wind.  It  is  all  action,  but  has  no  useful  strength.  It 
feeds  voraciously  and  abundantly  on  the  richest  food 
that  can  be  served  up;  and  can  live  on  less  and 
meaner  diet,  than  anything  of  which  we  can  have  a 
conception.  The  rich,  poor,  learned,  ignorant,  beau- 
tiful, ugly,  high,  low,  strong,  and  weak  —  all  have  a 
share  of  vanity.  The  humblest  Christian  is  not  free 
from  it,  and,  when  he  is  most  humble,  the  devil  will 
flatter  his  vanity  by  telling  him  of  it. 

Vanity  is  ever  striving  to  hide  itself,  like  the  pea- 
cock its  ugly  feet,  and  will  even  deny  its  own  name. 
"/  speak  without  vanity"  —HUSH — you  deceitful 
puff.  You  make  men  and  women,  the  only  animals 
that  can  laugh,  the  very  ones  to  be  laughed  at. 
Dr.  Johnson  once  remarked,  "When  any  one  com- 
plains of  the  want  of  what  he  is  known  to  possess  in 
an  eminent  degree,  he  waits,  with  impatience,  to  be 
contradicted,"  and  thus  vanity  converts  him  into  a  fool 
and  a  liar,  only  to  render  him  ridiculous.  Vanity 
engenders  affectation,  mock  modesty,  and  a  train  of 
such  like  et  ceteras ;  all  subtracting  from  the  real 
dignity  of  man.  On  the  other  hand,  it  feeds,'  with 
equal  voracity  on  vulgarity,  coarseness,  and  fulsome 
eccentricity ;  every  thing  by  which  the  person  can 
attract  attention.  •  It  often  takes  liberality  by  the 
hand,  prompts  advice,  administers  reproof,  and  some- 
times perches,  visibly  and  gaily,  on  the  prayers  and 
sermons  in  the  pulpit.  It  is  an  every  where  and  ever 

2  I 


322  PRIDE. 

present  principle  of  human  nature  —  a  wen  on  the 
heart  of  man ;  less  painful,  but  quite  as  loathsome  as 
a  cancer.  It  is,  of  all  others,  the  most  baseless  pro- 
pensity. 

We  have  nothing  of  which  we  should  be  vain,  but 
much  to  induce  humility.  If  we  have  any  good  quali- 
ties they  are  the  gift  of  God  ;  in  the  best  of  men 
there  are  bad  ones  enough,  if  they  can  see  them- 
selves, to  strangle  vanity.  Let  every  one  guard 
against  this  all-pervading  principle. 


HE  that  is  proud  eats  himself  up.  Pride  is  his  own 
glass,  his  own  trumpet,  his  own  chronicle ;  and  what- 
ever praises  itself  but  in  the  deed,  devours  the  deed 
in  the  praise.  Pride  is  like  an  empty  bag,  and  who 
can  stand  such  a  thing  upright?  It  is  hollow  and 
heartless ;  and,  like  a  drum,  makes  the  more  noise 
from  its  very  emptiness.  What  is  there  in  us  to 
induce  such  a  sentiment?  Who  can  say,  with  truth, 
"I  am  better  than  my  neighbor?"  Some  shrewd 
philosopher  has  said,  that  if  the  best  man's  faults  were 
written  on  his  forehead  they  would  make  him  pull 
his  hat  over  his  eyes !  Ah,  there  is  so  much  of  good 
in  those  who  are  evil,  and  so  much  that  is  bad  in  the 
best,  that  it  ill  becomes  us  to  judge  our  neighbors 
harshly,  or  set  ourselves  up  to  saints  at  their  expense. 
Let  those  who  feel  above  their  fellows,  view  the 


PRIDE.  323 

heights  above  themselves,  and  realize  their  littleness ; 
for  as  there  is  none  so  vile  but  that  a  viler  hath  been 
known,  so  there  is  no  saint  but  a  holier  can  be 
named. 

When  one  asked  a  philosopher  what  the  great  God 
was  doing,  he  replied,  "His  whole  employment  is  to 
lift  up  the  humble  and  to  cast  down  the  proud." 
And,  indeed,  there  is  no  one  sin  which  the  Almighty 
seems  more  determined  to  punish  than  this.  The 
examples  of  God's  displeasure  against  it  are  most 
strikingly  exhibited  in  the  history  of  Pharaoh,  Heze- 
kiah,  Haman,  Nebuchadnezzar,  and  Herod. 

Pride  is  generally  the  effect  of  ignorance  ;  for  pride 
and  folly  attend  each  other.  Ignorance  and  pride 
keep  constant  company.  Pride,  joined  with  many 
virtues,  chokes  them  all.  Pride  is  the  bane  of  happi- 
ness. Some  people,  says  L'Estrange,  are  all  quality 
You  would  think  they  were  made  of  nothing  but  titta 
and  genealogy.  The  stamp  of  dignity  defaces  in 
them  the  very  character  of  humanity,  and  transports 
them  to  such  a  degree  of  haughtiness  that  they 
reckon  it  below  themselves  to  exercise  either  good 
nature  or  good  manners.  It  is  related  of  the  French 
family  of  the  Duke  de  Levis,  that  they  have  a  picture 
in  their  pedigree  in  which  Noah  is  represented  going 
into  the  ark,  and  carrying  a  small  trunk,  on  which  is 
written,  "Papers  belonging  to  the  Levis  family." 
Pride  is  the  mist  that  vapors  round  insignificance. 
We  can  conceive  of  nothing  so  little  or  ridiculous  as 
pride.  It  is  a  mixture  of  insensibility  and  ill-nature, 
in  which  it  is  hard  to  say  which  has  the  largest  share. 


324  PRIDE. 

Pride  is  as  loud  a  beggar  as  want,  and  a  great  deal 
more  saucy.  Knavery  and  pride  are  often  united ; 
the  Spartan  boy  was  dishonest  enough  to  steal  a 
fox,  but  proud  enough  to  let  the  beast  eat  out  his 
vitals  sooner  than  hazard  detection.  Pride  break- 
fasted with  Plenty,  dined  with  Poverty,  and  suppered 
with  Infamy.  Pride  had  rather  at  any  time  go  out  of 
the  way  than  come  behind. 

Pride  must  have  a  fall.  Solomon  said,  pride  goeth 
before  destruction.  Of  all  human  actions,  pride  the 
most  seldom  obtains  its  end ;  for  while  it  aims  at 
honor  and  reputation,  it  reaps  contempt  and  derision. 
Pride  and  ill-nature  will  be  hated  in  spite  of  all  the 
wealth  and  greatness  in  the  world.  Civility  is  always 
safe,  but  pride  creates  enemies.  As  liberality  makes 
friends  of  enemies,  so  pride  makes  enemies  of  friends. 
Says  Dean  Swift:  "If  a  proud  man  makes  me  keep 
my  distance,  the  comfort  is,  he  at  the  same  time  keeps 
his."  Proud  men  have  friends  neither  in  prosperity, 
because  they  know  nobody  ;  nor  in  adversity,  because 
nobody  knows  them.  There  is  an  honest  pride,  such 
as  makes  one  ashamed  to  do  an  evil  act ;  such  a 
degree  of  self-esteem  as  makes  one  above  doing  an 
injury  to  any  one  ;  but  it  is  the  pride  which  sets  one 
above  his  fellows  that  we  deprecate  ;  that  spirit  which 
would  demand  homage  to  itself  as  better  and  greater 
than  others.  In  the  name  of  good  sense,  how  can 
any  one  feel  thus,  when  it  is  realized  that  the  entire 
life  of  a  man  is  but  a  moment  in  the  scale  of  eternity ; 
and  that  in  a  few  short  days,  at  most,  we  must  all  go 
from  here.  When  the  soul  is  about  to  depart,  what 


PRIDE.  325 

avails  it  whether  a  man  die  upon  a  throne  or  in  the 
dust  ? 

Pride  is  a  virtue  —  let  not  not  the  moralist  be  scan- 
dalized. Pride  is  also  a  vice.  Pride,  like  ambition, 
is  sometimes  virtuous  and  sometimes  vicious,  accord- 
ing to  the  character  in  which  it  is  found,  and  the 
object  to  which  it  is  directed.  As  a  principle,  it  is 
the  parent  of  almost  every  virtue,  and  every  vice  — 
everything-  that  pleases  and  displeases  in  mankind; 
and  as  the  effects  are  so  very  different,  nothing  is 
more  easy  than  to  discover,  even  to  ourselves,  whether 
the  pride  that  produces  them  is  virtuous  or  vicious. 
The  first  object  of  virtuous  pride  is  rectitude,  and  the 
next  independence.  Pride  may  be  allowed  to  this  or 
that  degree,  else  a  man  cannot  keep  up  his  dignity. 
In  gluttony  there  must  be  eating,  in  drunkenness 
there  must  be  drinking;  'tis  not  the  eating,  nor  'tis 
not  the  drinking  that  must  be  blamed,  but  the  excess. 
So  in  pride. 

Pride  and  poverty,  when  combined,  make  a  man's 
1'fe  up-hill  work.  Pomposity  in  a  hovel!  A  gaudy 
parlor,  meagre  kitchen,  and  empty  cupboard !  Rag- 
ged aristocracy  !  What  shifts  there  are  among  this 
class  to  hide  their  rags,  and  to  give  everything  a 
golden  tinge.  Among  them  you  see  a  rich  frosted 
cake  and  red  wine  in  the  parlor,  and  a  dry  crust, 
dryer  codfish,  and  bad  coffee  in  the  kitchen.  Broad- 
cloth hides  a  ragged  shirt.  Polished  boots  hide  tat- 
tered stockings.  Fortune's  toys,  she  kicks  them 
about  as  she  likes.  The  higher  they  look  the  lower 
they  sink.  The  gaudy  side  out,  rags  and  starvation 


326  PRIDE. 

•within.  Oh !  the  pangs  of  pride !  What  misery  is 
here  covered  up.  Smiles  abroad,  tears  at  home.  An 
eternal  war  with  want  on  one  hand,  and  proud  ambi- 
tion on  the  other.  This  trying-  to  be  "somebody," 
and  this  forgetting  that  it  is  not  necessary  to  be  gold- 
washed,  and  to  have  a  silver  spoon  in  one's  mouth,  in 
order  to  reach  that  envied  good  in  life's  journey. 
There  are  plenty  of  "somebodies"  among  the  honest 
poor,  and  plenty  of  "nobodies"  among  the  dainty 
rich.  Pride  and  poverty  are  the  most  ill-assorted 
companions  that  can  meet.  They  live  in  a  state  of 
continual  warfare,  and  the  sacrifices  they  exact  from 
each  other,  like  those  claimed  by  enemies  to  establish 
a  hollow  peace,  only  serve  to  increase  their  discord. 

Proud  persons  in  general  think  of  nothing  but 
themselves,  and  imagine  that  all  the  world  thinks 
about  them  too.  They  suppose  that  they  are  the 
subject  of  almost  every  conversation,  and  fancy  every 
wheel  which  moves  in  society  has  some  relation  to 
them.  People  of  this  sort  are  very  desirous  of 
knowing  what  is  said  of  them,  and  as  they  have  no 
conception  that  any  but  great  things  are  said  of  them, 
they  are  extremely  solicitous  to  know  them,  and  often 
put  this  question:  "Who  do  men  say  that  I  am?" 

Pride  is  the  ape  of  charity.  In  show  they  are  not 
much  unlike,  but  somewhat  fuller  of  action.  In  seek- 
ing  the  one,  take  heed  thou  light  not  upon  the  other. 
They  are  two  parallels  never  put  asunder.  Charity 
feeds  the  poor,  so  does  pride ;  charity  builds  a  hospi- 
tal, so  does  pride.  In  this  they  differ:  charity  gives 
her  glory  to  God,  pride  takes  her  glory  from  man. 


PRIDE.  327 

. 

When  flowers  are  full  of  heaven-  descended  dews, 
they  always  hang  their  heads  ;  but  men  hold  theirs  the 
higher  the  more  they  receive,  getting  proud  as  they 
get  full. 

Likeness  begets  love,  yet  proud  men  hate  each 
other.  Pride  makes  us  esteem  ourselves  ;  vanity 
makes  us  desire  the  esteem  of  others.  It  is  just  to 
say  that  a  man  is  too  proud  to  be  vain.  The  pride  of 
wealth  is  contemptible  ;  the  pride  of  learning  is 
pitiable ;  the  pride  of  dignity  is  ridiculous ;  but  the 
pride  of  bigotry  is  insupportable.  To  be  proud  of 
knowledge  is  to  be  blind  in  the  light ;  to  be  proud  of 
virtue,  is  to  poison  yourself  with  the  antidote ;  to  be 
proud  of  authority  is  to  make  your  rise  your  down- 
fall. The  sun  appears  largest  when  about  to  set,  so 
does  a  proud  man  swell  most  magnificently  just  before 
an  explosion. 

No  two  feelings  of  the  human  mind  are  more 
opposite  than  pride  and  humility.  Pride  is  founded  on  a 
high  opinion  of  ourselves  ;  humility  on  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  want  of  merit.  Pride  is  the  offspring  of 
ignorance  ;  humility  is  the  child  of  wisdom.  Pride 
hardens  the  heart ;  humility  softens  the  temper  and 
the  disposition.  Pride  is  deaf  to  the  clamors  of  con- 
science ;  humility  listens  with  reverence  to  the  monitor 
within  ;  and  finally,  pride  rejects  the  counsels  of  rea- 
son, the  voice  of  experience,  the  dictates  of  religion ; 
while  humility,  with  a  docile  spirit,  thankfully  receives 
instruction  from  all  who  address  her  in  the  garb  of 
truth.  "Of  all  trees,"  says  Felthem,  "I  observe 
God  hath  chosen  the  vine  —  a  low  plant  that  creeps 


328  PRIDE. 

upon  the  helpful  wall ;  of  all  beasts,  the  soft  and 
pliant  lamb ;  of  all  fowls,  the  mild  and  guileless  dove. 
When  God  appeared  to  Moses,  it  was  not  in  the 
lofty  cedar,  nor  in  the  spreading"  palm,  but  a  bush,  an 
humble,  abject  bush.  As  if  he  would,  by  these  selec- 
tions, check  the  conceited  arrogance  of  man."  Noth- 
ing produces  love  like  humility;  nothing  hate  like 
pride.  It  was  pride  that  changed  angels  into  devils ; 
it  is  humility  that  makes  men  as  angels. 

There  are  as  good  horses  drawing  in  carts  as  in 
coaches ;  and  as  good  men  are  engaged  in  humble 
employments  as  in  the  highest.  The  best  way  to 
humble  a  proud  man  is  to  take  no  notice  of  him. 
Men  are  sometimes  accused  of  pride,  merely  because 
their  accusers  would  be  proud  themselves  if  they  were 
in  their  places.  There  are  those  who  despise  pride 
with  a  greater  pride.  To  quell  the  pride,  even  of  the 
greatest,  we  should  reflect  how  much  we  owe  to 
others,  and  how  little  to  ourselves.  Other  vices 
choose  to  be  in  the  dark,  but  pride  loves  to  be  seen  in 
the  light.  The  common  charge  against  those  who 
rise  above  their  condition,  is  pride  Proud  looks  make 
foul  work  in  fair  faces. 

When  a  man's  pride  is  thoroughly  subdued,  it  is 
like  the  sides  of  Mount  JEtna.  It  was  terrible  while 
the  eruption  lasted  and  the  lava  flowed ;  but  when 
that  is  past,  and  the  lava  is  turned  into  soil,  it  grows 
vineyards  and  olive  trees  up  to  the  very  top. 


FOPS    AND    DANDIES.  329 


mtd  Jlatutk^ 

',r  « 


Though  great  thy  grandeur,  man,  may  be, 
No  pride  of  heart  is  meant  for  thee  ; 
Let  fools  exult,  presumption  boast, 
The  fops  and  dandies  dwell  in  hosts. 

THE  rose  of  Florida,  the  most  beautiful  of  flowers, 
emits  no  fragrance ;  the  bird  of  Paradise,  the  most 
beautiful  of  birds,  gives  no  song;  the  cypress  of 
Greece,  the  finest  of  trees,  yields  no  fruit ;  dandies, 
the  shiniest  of  men,  and  ballroom  belles,  the  loveliest 
of  created  creatures,  generally  have  no  sense.  Dr. 
Holmes,  in  his  "Autocfat  of  the  Breakfast  Table," 
says:  "Dandies  are  not  good  for  much,  but  they 
are  good  for  something.  They  invent  or  keep  in  cir- 
culation those  conversational  blanks,  checks  or  coun- 
ters, which  intellectual  capitalists  may  sometimes  find 
it  worth  their  while  to  borrow  of  them.  They  are 
useful,  too,  in  keeping  up  the  standard  of  dress, 
which,  but  for  them,  would  deteriorate  and  become, 
what  some  old  folks  would  have  it,  a  matter  of  con- 
venience, and  not  of  taste  and  art.  Yes,  I  like  dan- 
dies well  enough  —  on  one  condition,  that  they  have 
pluck.  I  find  that  lies  at  the  bottom  of  all  true  dan- 
dyism." 

A  man,  following  the  occupation  of  wood  cutting, 
-wrought  with  exemplary  zeal  during  the  six  working 
days,  hoarding  every  cent  not  required  to  furnish 
him  with  the  most  frugal  fare.  As  his  "pite" 
increased,  he  invested  it  in  gold  ornaments  —  watch 


330  FOPS    AND    DANDIES. 

chains  of  massive  links,  shirt  and  sleeve  buttons,  shoe 
buckles,  then  buttons  for  vest  and  coat,  a  hat  band  of 
the  precious  metals,  a  heavy  gold-headed  cane  —  and, 
in  short,  wherever  an  ounce  of  it  could  be  bestowed 
upon  his  person,  in  or  out  of  taste,  it  was  done. 
The  glory  of  his  life,  his  sole  ambition,  was  to  don 
his  curious  attire  (which  was  deposited  for  safe  keep- 
ing during  the  week  in  one  of  the  banks)  on  Sunday 
morning,  and  then  spend  the  day,  the  "observed  of 
all  observers,"  lounging  about  the  office  or  bar-room 
of  a  prominent  hotel.  He  never  drank,  and  rarely 
spoke.  Mystery  seemed  to  envelope  him.  No  one 
knew  whence  he  came  or  the  origin  of  his  innocent 
whim.  Old  citizens  assured  you  that,  year  after 
year,  his  narrow  savings  were  measured  by  the 
increase  of  his  ornaments,  until,  at  length,  the  value 
of  the  anomalous  garments  came  to  be  estimated  by 
thousands  of  dollars.  By  ten  o'clock  on  Sunday 
night  the  exhibition  was  closed ;  his  one  day  of  self- 
gratification  enjoyed,  his  costly  wardrobe  was  returned 
to  the  bank  vault,  and  he  came  back  into  the  obscu- 
rity of  a  wood  chopper.  Many  may  think  that  this  man 
was  a  fool,  and  very  much  unlike  the  ordinary  young 
man ;  but  not  so.  Many  young  men  do  the  same, 
only  their  cloth,  their  gaudy  apparel  are  not  so  dur- 
able ;  and  they  are  not  so  economical ;  do  not  invest 
in  so  valuable  material,  but  spend  their  entire  income 
(and  sometimes  more)  just  to  carry  a  stylish,  shiny 
suit  worth  about  fifty  dollars. 

There  are  a  thousand  fops  made  by  art  for  one  fool 
made  by  nature.      How  ridiculous  a  sight,  says  Dr. 


FOPS    AND    DANDIES.  331 

Fuller,  is  a  vain  young  gallant,  that  bristles  with  his 
plumes  and  shakes  his  giddy  head ;  and  to  no  other 
purpose  than  to  get  possession  of  a  mistress  who  is 
as  much  a  trifle  as  himself!  The  little  soul  that  con- 
verses of  nothing  of  more  importance  than  the  look- 
ing-glass and  a  fantastic  dress,  may  make  up  the  show 
of  the  world ;  but  must  not  be  reckoned  among  the 
rational  inhabitants  of  it.  A  man  of  wit  may  some- 
times, but  a  man  of  judgment  and  sense  never  can, 
be  a  coxcomb.  A  beau  dressed  out,  is  like  a  cinna- 
mon tree  —  the  bark  is  worth  more  than  the  body. 
An  ass  is  but  an  ass,  though  laden  or  covered  with 
gold.  Fops  are  more  attentive  to  what  is  showy 
than  mindful  of  what  is  necessary.  A  fop  of  fashion 
is  said  to  be  the  mercer's  friend,  the  tailor's  fool,  and 
his  own  foe.  Show  and  substance  are  often  united, 
as  an  object  and  its  shadow,  the  sun  and  its  glory,  the 
soul  and  body,  mind  and  its  outward  actions,  love  and 
its  face  of  sweetness.  And  on  this  account  men  have 
associated  the  two  so  closely  together  as  oft:n  to 
mistake  the  one  for  the  other,  and  hence  have  sought 
for  show  as  though  it  were  substance,  and  deceivers 
have  put  the  former  in  place  of  the  latter  to  cheat 
the  world  thereby. 

Show  paints  the  hypocrite's  face  and  wags  the  liar's 
tongue.  To  discriminate  between  show  and  sub- 
stance, to  determine  what  is  show  and  what  is  sub- 
stance, and  what  are  substance  and  show,  is  a  work 
of  critical  judgment,  and  one  upon  which  the  excel- 
lency, majesty,  and  strength  of  our  life  in  no  small 
degree  depends.  There  is  show  without  substance, 


332  FOPS    AND    DANDIES. 

there  is  substance  without  show,  there  is  substance 
and  show  together. 

Dandies  and  fops  are  like  a  body  without  soul, 
powder  without  ball,  lightning  without  thunderbolt. 
It  is  dress  on  a  doll,  paint  on  sand.  There  is  much 
of  this  in  the  world.  We  see  it  in  respect  to  every 
thing  considered  valuable.  The  counterfeiter  gives 
the  show  of  gold  to  his  base  coin,  and  the  show  of 
value  to  his  lying  bank  note.  The  thief  hangs  out 
the  appearance  of  honesty  on  his  face,  and  the  liar  is 
thunderstruck  if  anybody  suspects  him  of  equivoca- 
tion. The  bankrupt  carries  about  him  the  insignia  of 
wealth.  The  fop  puts  on  the  masquerade  of  dignity 
and  importance,  and  the  poor  belle,  whose  mother 
washes  to  buy  her  plumes,  outshines  the  peeress  ot 
the  court.  Many  a  table  steams  with  costly  viands 
for  which  the  last  cent  was  paid,  and  many  a  coat, 
sleek  and  black,  swings  on  the  street  and  in  the  saloon 
on  which  the  tailor  has  a  moral  mortgage.  Often  do 
the  drawing-room  and  parlor,  the  wardrobe  and  coach, 
speak  of  wealth  and  standing  when,  if  they  were  not 
dumb  deceivers,  they  would  cry  out  "It's  all  a  lie." 
This  is  show  without  substance  in  domestic  life.  It 
is  the  grandest  lie  of  the  world,  and  cheats  more  poor 
people  out  of  their  birthright  than  any  other  one 
species  of  wicked  show.  All  their  thoughts,  and 
labors,  and  money,  and  credit  are  spent  to  fabricate  a 
gorgeous  cheat  to  the  world,  to  make  themselves 
appear  to  be  what  they  are  not ;  when,  if  they  would 
be  honest,  and  labor  for  the  true  substance  of  life, 
they  might  be,  in  reality,  what  they  are  clownishly 


FASHION.  333 

aping-.  They  cheat  their  souls  out  of  honesty,  and  a 
respectable  and  comfortable  moral  character,  their 
bodies  out  of  the  substance  of  a  good  living,  them- 
selves out  of  a  good  name  among  their  fellows ;  yea, 
they  cheat  every  thing  but  the  very  world  they  intend 
to  cheat.  That  world  sees  through  their  gossamer 
show,  and  laughs  at  the  foolishness  which  seeks  to 
conceal  a  want  of  substance. 

It  is  a  general  sin,  to  which  there  are  but  few 
exceptions ;  a  great  falsehood,  which  almost  every 
man  is  striving  to  make  greater.  This  great  evil 
turns  society  into  a  grand  show-room,  in  which  the 
most  dextrous  show-master  wears  the  tallest  plume. 
Besides  the  sinfulness  of  the  thing,  it  is  a  great 
domestic  bane.  It  makes  the  poor  poorer,  and  the 
rich  more  avaricious.  It  causes  almost  every  body- 
to  over-live,  over-dress,  over-eat,  over-act  in  every 
thing  that  will  make  a  show.  It  is  a  great  root  of 
selfishness,  a  great  weight  of  oppression,  a  great  sink 
of  meanness,  a  great  burden  of  woe,  a  great  cloud  of 
despair. 


No  HEATHEN  god  or  goddess  has  ever  had  more 
zealous  devotees  than  fashion,  or  a  more  absurd  and 
humiliating  ritual,  or  more  mortifying  and  cruel  pen- 
ances. Her  laws,  like  those  of  the  Medes  and  Per 


334  FASHION 

sians,  must  be  implicitly  obeyed,  but  unlike  them, 
change,  as  certainly  as  the  moon.  They  are  rarely 
founded  in  reason,  usually  violate  common  sense, 
sometimes  common  decency,  and  uniformly  common 
comfort 

Fashion  rules  the  world,  and  a  most  tyrannical  mis- 
tress she  is  —  compelling  people  to  submit  to  the 
most  inconvenient  things  imaginable  for  her  sake. 
She  pinches  our  feet  with  tight  shoes,  or  chokes  us 
with  a  tight  neckerchief,  or  squeezes  the  breath  out 
of  our  body  by  tight  lacing.  She  makes  people  sit 
up  by  night,  when  they  ought  to  be  in  bed,  and  keeps 
them  in  bed  in  the  morning  when  they  ought  to  be 
up  and  doing.  She  makes  it  vulgar  to  wait  upon 
one's  self,  and  genteel  to  live  idly  and  uselessly. 
She  makes  people  visit  when  they  would  rather  stay 
at  home,  eat  when  they  are  not  hungry,  and  drink 
when  they  are  not  thirsty.  She  invades  our  pleas- 
ures and  interrupts  our  business.  She  compels 
people  to  dress  gaily,  whether  upon  their  own  pro- 
perty or  that  of  others  —  whether  agreeably  to  the 
word  of  God  or  the  dictates  of  pride. 

Fashion,  unlike  custom,  never  looks  at  the  past  as 
a  precedent  for  the  present  or  future.  She  imposes 
unanticipated  burdens,  without  regard  to  the  strength 
or  means  of  her  hoodwinked  followers,  cheating  them 
out  of  time,  fortune  and  happiness ;  repaying  them 
with  the  consolation  of  being  ridiculed  by  the  wise, 
endangering  health  and  wasting  means ;  a  kind  of 
remuneration  rather  paradoxical,  but  most  graciously 
received.  Semblance  and  shade  are  among  her  attri- 


FASHION.  335 

butes.  It  is  of  more  importance  for  her  worshipers 
to  appear  happy  than  to  be  so. 

Fashion  taxes  without  reason  and  collects  without 
mercy.  She  first  infatuates  the  court  and  aristocracy, 
and  then  ridicules  the  poor  if  they  do  not  follow  in 
the  wake,  although  they  die  in  the  ditch.  This  was 
exemplified  in  the  reign  of  Richard  III.,  who  was 
humpbacked.  Monkey-like,  his  court,  at  the  dictum 
of  fashion,  all  mounted  a  bustle  on  their  backs,  and 
as  this  was  not  an  expensive  adjunct,  the  whole 
nation  became  humpbacked  —  emphatically  a  crooked 
generation  —  from  the  peasant  to  the  king,  all  were 
humped. 

If  she  require  oblations  from  the  four  quarters  of 
the  globe,  they  must  be  had,  if  wealth,  health  and 
happiness  are  the  price.  If  she  fancy  comparative 
nakedness  for  winter,  or  five  thicknesses  of  woolen 
for  dog  days  —  and  speaks,  and  it  is  done.  If  she 
order  the  purple  current  of  life  and  the  organs  of 
respiration  to  be  retarded  by  steel,  whalebone,  buck- 
ram, drill,  and  cords  —  it  is  done.  Disease  laughs 
and  death  grins  at  the  folly  of  the  goddess  and  the 
zeal  of  the  worshipers.  If  she  order  a  bag  full  of- 
notions  on  the  hips,  a  Chinese  shoe  on  the  foot,  a 
short  cut,  a  trail,  a  hoop,  or  balloon  sleeve,  or  no  sleeve, 
for  a  dress,  and  a  grain  fan  bonnet,  or  fool's  cap  for 
the  head,  she  is  obsequiously  obeyed  by  the  exquis- 
itely fashionable  ladies  and  lauded  by  their  beaux.  If 
she  order,  her  male  subjects,  the  Mordecais  and  Dan- 
iels, tremble  at  the  gong  sound  of  trumpet-tongued 
ridicule.  Not  only  the  vain  and  giddy,  the  thought- 


336  FASHION. 

less    and   rattlebrained,  dance  attendance  upon  her, 
but  many  a  statesman  and  philosopher. 

The  empress  at  Paris,  or  other  ladies  of  rank,  do 
not   originate   the  fashions,   neither  do  any  ladies  of 
real  rank  and  distinction ;  they  adopt  them,  and  thus 
set  the   seal   of  their  acknowledged   authority  upon 
them,  but  no  lady  would  be  the  first  to  wear  a  striking 
novelty,  or  a  style  so  new,  or  so  outre  as  to  be  likely 
to  attract  public  attention.     This  is  left  for  the  leaders, 
of  the  demi-monde,  several  of  whom  are  in  the  pay 
of  Parisian  dress-makers  and  'modistes.     The  noted 
Worth,  the  man-milliner  of  Paris,  who  receives  all  the 
money  and  exercises  all  the  impudence  which  have 
placed  him  at  the  head  of  his  profession,  while  women, 
do  all  the  work,  has  in  his  employ  a  dozen  fashion 
writers   and   several   of   the   most    noted    leaders   of 
Parisian  society.     These  latter  are  selected  for  their 
fine    appearance    and    dashing-   manners.      Toilettes, 
equipages  and  boxes  at  the  theatre   and   opera   are 
provided  for  them.     Dead  or  dying,  they  are  required 
to  show  themselves  at  these   places  on   all   suitable 
occasions,  in  extraordinary  dresses  made  by  the  "re- 
nowned" Worth,  as  the  fashion  correspondents  say, 
who  in  this  way  take  up  the  burden  of  the  song,  and 
echo  it  even  upon  these  Western  shores.      It  is  the 
height  of  ambition  with  some  American  women  to  go- 
to   Paris,   and   have    a    dress  made    by  Worth ;    and 
dearly  do  they  sometimes  pay  for  their  folly,  not  only 
in  immense  prices  for  very  small  returns,  but  in  de- 
grading their  American  womanhood  by  following  in  so 
disgraceful  a  scramble  with  so  mixed  an  assemblage. 


FASHION.  337 

Fashion  is  the  foster  mother  of  vanity,  the  offal  of 
pride,  and  has  nursed  her  pet,  until  it  is  as  fat  as  a 
sea  turtle,  is  quite  as  wicked  to  bite,  and  harder  to 
kill ;  but,  unlike  that  inhabitant  of  the  herring-  pond, 
instead  of  keeping  in  a  shell,  it  is  mounted  on  a  shell, 
adorned  with  every  flummery,  intruding  into  all  the 
avenues  of  life,  scattering  misery  far  and  wide  — 
faithless,  fearless,  uncompromising  and  tyrannical. 

Then  the  example  of  a  fashionable  woman,  how 
low,  how  vulgar !  With  her  the  cut  of  a  collar,  the 
depth  of  a  flounce,  the  style  of  a  ribbon,  is  of  more 
importance  than  the  strength  of  a  virtue,  the  form  of 
a  mind,  or  the  style  of  a  life.  She  consults  the  fash- 
ion plate  oftener  than  her  Bible ;  she  visits  the  dry 
goods  shop  and  the  milliner  oftener  than  the  church. 
She  speaks  of  fashion  oftener  than  of  virtue,  and 
follows  it  closer  than  she  does  her  Savior.  She  can 
see  squalid  misery  and  low-bred  vice  without  a  blush 
or  a  twinge  of  the  heart ;  but  a  plume  out  of  fashion, 
or  a  table  set  in  old  style,  would  shock  her  into  a 
hysteric  fit.  Her  example  !  What  is  it  but  a  breath 
of  poison  to  the  young?  We  had  as  soon  have  vice 
stalking  bawdily  in  the  presence  of  our  children,  as 
the  graceless  form  of  fashion.  Vice  would  look 
haggard  and  mean  at  first  sight,  but  fashion  would 
be  gilded  into  an  attractive  delusion.  Oh,  fashion  ! 
how  thou  art  dwarfing  the  intellect  and  eating  out  the 
heart  of  our  people !  Genius  is  dying  on  thy  luxuri- 
ous altar.  And  what  a  sacrifice !  Talent  is  wither- 
ing into  weakness  in  thy  voluptuous  gaze !  Virtue 
gives  up  the  ghost  at  thy  smile.  Our  youth  are 

22 


338  FASHION. 

chasing-  after  thee  as  a  wanton  in  disguise.  Our 
young- women  are  the  victims  of  thine  all-greedy  lust. 
And  still  thou  art  not  satisfied,  but,  like  the  devour- 
ing grave,  criest  for  more. 

Friendship,  its  links  must  be  forged  on  fashion's 
anvil,  or  it  is  good  for  nothing.  How  shocking  to  be 
friendly  with  an  unfashionable  lady !  It  will  never  do. 
How  soon  one  would  lose  caste  !  No  matter  if  her 
mind  is  a  treasury  of  gems,  and  her  heart  a  flower 
garden  of  love,  and  her  life  a  hymn  of  grace  and 
praise,  it  will  not  do  to  walk  on  the  streets  with  her, 
or  intimate  to  anybody  that  you  know  her.  No,  one's 
intimate  friend  must  be  a  la  mode.  Better  bow  to 
the  shadow  of  a  belle's  wing  than  rest  in  the  bosom 
of  a  "strong-minded"  woman's  love. 

And  love,  too,  that  must  be  fashionable.  It  would 
be  unpardonable  to  love  a  plain  man  whom  fashion 
could  not  seduce,  whose  sense  of  right  dictated  his 
life,  a  man  who  does  not  walk  perpendicular  in  a 
standing  collar,  and  sport  a  watch-fob,  and  twirl  a 
cane.  And  then  then  to  marry  him  would  be  death. 
He  would  be  just  as  likely  to  sit  down  in  the  kitchen 
as  in  the  parlor ;  and  might  get  hold  of  the  woodsaw 
as  often  as  the  guitar;  and  very  likely  he  would  have 
the  baby  right  up  in  his  arms  and  feed  it  and  rock  it 
to  sleep.  A  man  who  will  make  himself  useful  about 
his  own  home  is  so  exceedingly  unfashionable  that  it 
will  never  do  for  a  lady  to  marry  him.  She  would 
lose  caste  at  once. 

Abused  women  generally  outlive   fashionable  ones. 
Crushed   and   care-worn   women   see  the    pampered 


FASHION.  339 

daughters  of  fashion  wither  and  die  around  them,  and 
wonder  why  death  in  kindness  does  not  come  to  take 
them  away  instead.  The  reason  is  plain  :  fashion  kills 
more  women  than  toil  and  sorrow.  Obedience  to 
fashion  is  a  greater  transgression  of  the  laws  of 
woman's  nature,  a  greater  injury  to  her  physical  and 
mental  constitution,  than  the  hardships  of  poverty 
and  neglect.  The  slave-woman  at  her  tasks  will  live 
and  grow  old  and  see  two  or  three  generations  of  her 
mistresses  fade  and  pass  away.  The  washerwoman, 
with  scarce  a  ray  of  hope  to  cheer  her  in  her  toils, 
will  live  to  see  her  fashionable  sisters  all  die  around 
her.  The  kitchen  maid  is  hearty  and  strong,  when 
her  lady  has  to  be  nursed  like  a  sick  baby.  It  is  a 
sad  truth,  that  fashion-pampered  women  are  almost 
worthless  for  all  the  great  ends  of  human  life.  They 
have  but  little  force  of  character ;  they  have  still  less 
power  of  moral  will,  and  quite  as  little  physical 
energy.  They  live  for  no  great  purpose  in  life ;  they 
accomplish  no  worthy  ends.  They  are  only  doll- 
forms  in  the  hands  of  milliners  and  servants,  to  be 
dressed  and  fed  to  order.  They  dress  nobody;  they 
feed  nobody ;  they  instruct  nobody ;  they  bless 
nobody,  and  save  nobody.  They  write  no  books ; 
they  set  no  rich  examples  of  virtue  and  womanly 
life.  If  they  rear  children,  servants  and  nurses  do 
it  all,  save  to  conceive  and  give  them  birth.  And 
when  reared  what  are  they?  What  do  they  even 
amount  to,  but  weaker  scions  of  the  old  stock? 
Who  ever  heard  of  a  fashionable  woman's  child  exhib- 
iting any  virtue  or  power  of  mind  for  which  it  became 


340  DRESS. 

eminent?  Read  the  biographies  of  our  great  and 
good  men  and  women.  Not  one  of  them  had  a  fash- 
ionable mother.  They  nearly  all  sprang  from  plain, 
strong-minded  women,  who  had  about  as  little  to  do 
with  fashion  as  with  the  changing  clouds. 

There  is  one  fashion  that  never  changes.  The 
sparkling  eye,  the  coral  lip,  the  rose  leaf  blushing  on 
the  cheek,  the  elastic  step,  are  always,  in  fashion. 
Health  —  rosy,  bouncing,  gladsome  health  —  is  never 
out  of  fashion ;  what  pilgrimages  are  made,  what 
prayers  are  uttered  for  its  possession !  Failing  in 
the  pursuit  what  treasures  are  lavished  in  concealing 
its  loss  or  counterfeiting  its  charms !  Reader,  if  you 
love  freedom  more  than  slavery,  liberty  more  than 
thraldom,  happiness  more  than  misery,  competence 
more  than  poverty,  never  bow  your  knee  to  the  god- 
dess fashion. 


LOOKING  upon  the  panoramic  field  of  God's  works, 
we  must  conclude  that  he  has  taken  especial  care  to 
gratify  the  varying  taste  of  his  creatures.  And  more 
than  this,  we  must  conclude  that  he  himself  has  an 
infinite  taste,  which  finds  an  infinite  pleasure  in  mak- 
ing and  viewing  this  magnificent  universe  of  flashing 
splendor  and  sombre  sweetness,  this  field  on  field, 
system  beyond  system,  far  off  where  human  eye  can 
never  reach,  all  shining  and  moving  in  an  infinite 


DRESS. 


variety  of  forms,  colors  and  movements.  Moreover, 
we  cannot  but  feel  that  God  is  a  lover  of  dress.  He 
has  put  on  robes  of  beauty  and  glory  upon  all  his 
\vorks.  Every  flower  is  dressed  in  richness  ;  every 
field  blushes  beneath  a  mantle  of  beauty  ;  every  star 
is  veiled  in  brightness  ;  every  bird  is  clothed  in  the 
habiliments  of  the  most  exquisite  taste.  The  cattle 
upon  the  thousand  hills  are  dressed  by  the  hand 
divine.  Who,  studying  God  in  his  works,  can  doubt 
that  He  will  smile  upon  the  evidence  of  correct  taste 
manifested  by  His  children  in  clothing  the  forms  He 
has  made  them? 

To  love  dress  is  not  to  be  a  slave  of  fashion  ;  to 
love  dress  only  is  the  test  of  such  homage.  To 
transact  the  business  of  charity  in  a  silk  dress,  and  to 
go  in  a  carriage  to  the  work,  injures  neither  the  work 
nor  the  worker.  The  slave  of  fashion  is  one  who 
assumes  the  livery  of  a  princess  and  then  omits  the 
errand  of  the  good  human  soul  ;  dresses  in  elegance 
and  goes  upon  no  good  errand,  and  thinks  and  does 
nothing  of  value  to  mankind.  It  does,  indeed,  ap- 
pear, that  the  woman  of  our  land  is  moving  against 
all  the  old  enemies  of  society.  She  herself  rises  and 
is  helping  others. 

Beauty  in  dress  is  a  good  thing,  rail  at  it  who  may. 
But  it  is  a  lower  beauty,  for  which  a  higher  beauty 
should  not  be  sacrificed.  They  love  dress  too  much 
who  give  it  their  first  thought,  their  best  time,  or  all 
their  money  ;  who  for  it  neglect  the  culture  of  mind 
or  heart,  or  the  claims  of  others  on  their  service; 
who  care  more  for  the'  dress  than  their  disposition; 


342  DRESS. 

who  are  troubled  more  by  an  unfashionable   bonnet 
than  a  neglected  duty. 

Female  loveliness  never  appears  to  so  good  advan- 
tage as  when  set  off  by  simplicity  of  dress.  No  artist 
ever  decks  his  angels  with  towering  feathers  and 
gaudy  jewelry  ;  and  our  dear  human  angels  —  if  they 
would  make  good  their  title  to  that  name  —  should 
carefully  avoid  ornaments  which  properly  belong  to 
Indian  squaws  and  African  princesses.  These  tinsel- 
ries  may  serve  to  give  effect  on  the  stage,  or  upoi\ 
the  ball-room  floor,  but  in  daily  life  there  is  no  sub 
stitute  for  the  charm  of  simplicity.  A  vulgar  taste  is 
not  to  be  disguised  by  gold  and  diamonds.  The 
absence  of  a  true  taste  and  refinement  of  delicacy  can- 
not be  compensated  for  by  the  possession  of  the  most 
princely  fortune.  Mind  measures  gold,  but  gold  can- 
not measure  mind.  Through  dress  the  mind  may  be 
read,  as  through  the  delicate  tissue  the  lettered  page. 
A  modest  woman  will  dress  modestly ;  a  really  refined 
and  intelligent  woman  will  'bear  the  marks  of  careful 
selection  and  faultless  taste. 

A  coat  that  has  the  mark  of  use  upon  it  is  a  recom- 
mendation to  people  of  sense,  and  a  hat  with  too 
much  nap  and  too  high  lustre  a  derogatory  circum- 
stance. The  best  coats  in  our  streets  are  worn  on 
the  backs  of  penniless  fops,  broken  down  merchants, 
clerks  with  pitiful  salaries,  and  men  who  do  not  pay 
up.  The  heaviest  gold  chains  dangle  from  the  fobs 
of  gamblers  and  gentlemen  of  very  limited  means ; 
costly  ornaments  on  ladies  indicate  to  the  eyes  that 
are  well  opened,  the  fact  of  a  silly  lover  or  husband 


DRESS.  343 

cramped  for  funds.  And  when  a  pretty  woman  goes 
by  in  plain  and  neat  apparel,  it  is  the  presumption 
that  she  has  fair  expectations,  and  a  husband  that  can 
show  a  balance  in  his  favor.  For  women  are  like 
books,  too  much  gilding  makes  men  suspicious  that 
the  binding  is  the  most  important  part.  The  body  is 
the  shell  of  the  soul,  and  the  dress  is  the  husk  of  the 
body  ;  but  the  husk  generally  tells  what  the  kernel  is. 
As  a  fashionably  dressed  young  lady  passed  some 
gentlemen,  one  of  them  raised  his  hat,  whereupon 
another,  struck  by  the  fine  appearance  of  the  lady, 
made  some  inquiries  concerning  her,  and  was  an- 
swered thus:  "She  makes  a  pretty  ornament  in  her 
father's  house,  but  otherwise  is  of  no  use." 

The  love  of  beauty  and  refinement  belong  to  every 
true  woman.  She  ought  to  desire,  in  moderation, 
pretty  dresses,  and  delight  in  beautiful  colors  and 
graceful  fabrics ;  she  ought  to  take  a  certain,  not  too 
expensive,  pride  in  herself,  and  be  solicitous  to  have 
all  belonging  to  her  well-chosen  and  in  good  taste ;  to 
care  for  the  perfect  ordering  of  her  house,  and  har- 
mony and  fitness  of  her  furniture,  the  cleanliness  of 
her  surroundings,  and  good  style  of  her  arrange- 
ments :  she  ought  not  to  like  singularity,  either  of 
habit  or  appearance,  or  be  able  to  stand  out  against 
a  fashion  when  fashion  has  become  custom :  she  ought 
to  make  herself  conspicuous  only  by  the  perfection  of 
her  taste,  by  the  grace  and  harmony  of  her  dress,  and 
unobtrusive  good-breeding  of  her  manners:  she 
ought  to  set  the  seal  of  gentlewoman  on  every  square 
inch  of  her  life,  and  shed  the  radiance  of  her  own 


344  DRESS. 

beauty  and  refinement  on  every  material  object 
about  her. 

The  richest  dress  is  always  worn  on  the  soul.  The 
adornments  that  will  not  perish,  and  that  all  men 
most  admire,  shine  from  the  heart  through  this  life. 
God  has  made  it  our  highest,  holiest  duty  to  dress 
the  soul  He  has  given  us.  It  is  wicked  to  waste  it  in 
frivolity.  It  is  a  beautiful,  undying,  precious  thing. 
If  every  young  woman  would  think  of  her  soul  when 
she  looks  in  the  glass,  would  hear  the  cry  of  her 
naked  mind  when  she  dallies  away  her  precious  hours 
at  her  toilet,  would  listen  to  the  sad  moaning  of  her 
hollow  heart,  as  it  wails  through  her  idle,  useless  life, 
something  would  be  done  for  the  elevation  of  woman- 
hood. Compare  a  well-dressed  body  with  a  well- 
dressed  mind.  Compare  a  taste  for  dress  with  a 
taste  for  knowledge,  culture,  virtue,  and  piety.  Dress 
up  an  ignorant  young  woman  in  the  "height  of  fash- 
ion;" put  on  plumes  and  flowers,  diamonds  and  gew- 
gaws ;  paint  her  face  and  gird  up  her  waist,  and  we 
ask  you  if,  this  side  of  a  painted  feathered  savage, 
you  can  find  any  thing  more  unpleasant  to  behold. 
And  yet  just  such  young  women  we  meet  by  the  hun- 
dred every  day  on  the  street  and  in  all  our  public 
places.  It  is  awful  to  think  of.  Why  is  it  so  ?  It  is 
only  because  woman  is  regarded  as  a  doll  to  be 
dressed — a  plaything  to  be  petted — a  house  ornament 
to  exhibit  —  a  thing  to  be  used  and  kept  from  crying 
with  a  sugar-plum  show. 

What  multitudes  of  young  women  waste  all  that  is 
precious  in  life  on  the  finified  fooleries  of  the  toilet! 


DRESS.  345 

How  the  soul  of  womanhood  is  dwarfed  and  shriveled 
by  such  trifles,  kept  away  from  the  great  fields  of 
active  thought  and  love  by  the  gewgaws  she  hangs 
on  her  bonnet !  How  light  must  be  that  thing  which 
will  float  on  the  sea  of  passion  —  a  bubble,  a  feather, 
a  puff-ball !  And  yet  multitudes  of  women  float  there, 
live  there,  and  call  it  life.  Poor  things !  Scum  on 
the  surface !  But  there  is  a  truth,  young  women ; 
woman  was  made  for  a  higher  purpose,  a  nobler  use, 
a  grander  destiny.  Her  powers  are  riph  and  strong; 
her  genius  bold  and  daring.  She  may  walk  the  fields 
of  thought,  achieve  the  victories  of  mind,  spread 
around  her  the  testimonials  of  her  worth,  and  make 
herself  known  and  felt  as  man's  co-worker  and  equal 
in  whatsoever  exalts  mind,  embellishes  life,  or  sancti- 
fies humanity. 

The  true  object  and  importance  of  taste  in  dress 
few  understand.  Let  no  woman  .suppose  that  any 
man  can  be  really  indifferent  to  her  appearance.  The 
instinct  may  be  deadened  in  his  mind  by  a  slatternly, 
negligent  mother,  or  by  plain  maiden  sisters ;  but  she 
may  be  sure  it  is  there,  and,  with  little  adroitness, 
capable  of  revival.  Of  course,  the  immediate  effect 
of  a  well  chosen  feminine  toilet  operates  differently 
in  different  minds.  In  some,  it  causes  a  sense  of 
actual  pleasure  ;  in  others,  a  consciousness  of  passive 
enjoyment.  In  some,  it  is  intensely  felt  while  it  is 
present ;  in  others  only  missed  when  it  is  gone. 

Dress  affects  our  manners.  A  man  who  is  badly 
dressed  feels  chilly,  sweaty,  and  prickly.  He  stam- 
mers, and  does  not  always  tell  the  truth.  He  means 


346  DRESS 

to,  perhaps,  but  he  can't.  He  is  half  distracted  about 
his  pantaloons,  which  are  much  too  short,  and  are 
constantly  hitching  up ;  or  his  frayed  jacket  and 
crumpled  linen  harrow  his  soul  and  quite  unman  him. 
He  treads  on  the  train  of  a  lady's  dress,  and  says 
"Thank  you,"  sits  down  on  his  hat,  and  wishes  the 
"desert  were  his  dwelling  place." 

A  friend  of  ours,  who  had  long  been  absent, 
returned  and  called  upon  two  beautiful  young  ladies 
of  his  acquaintance.  One  came  quickly  to  greet  him 
in  the  neat,  yet  not  precise  attire,  in  which  she  was 
performing  her  household  duties.  The  other,  after 
the  lapse  of  half  an  hour,  made  her  stately  entrance, 
in  all  the  primness  of  starch  and  ribbons,  with  which, 
on  the  announcement  of  his  entrance,  she  had  hast- 
ened to  bedeck  herself.  Our  friend,  who  had  long 
been  hesitating  on  his  choice  between  the  two,  now 
hesitated  no  longer.  The  cordiality  with  which  the 
first  hastened  to  greet  him,  and  the  charming  care- 
lessness of  her  attire,  entirely  won  his  heart.  She  is 
now  his  wife.  Young  ladies,  take  warning  from  the 
above,  and  never  refuse  to  see  a  friend  because 
you  have  on  a  wash-gown.  Be  assured  the  true 
gentleman  will  not  think  less  of  you  because  he  finds 
you  in  the  performance  of  your  duties,  and  not 
ashamed  to  let  it  be  known.  Besides,  there  may 
positively  be  a  grace,  a  witching  wildness  about  an 
every-day  dress,  that  adds  to  every  charm  of  face  and 
feature. 


CHURCH    DRESS.  347 


THE  best  bred  people  of  every  Christian  country 
but  our  own  avoid  all  personal  display  when  engaged 
in  Avorship  and  prayer.  Our  churches,  on  the  con- 
trary, are  made  places  for  the  exhibition  of  fine 
apparel  and  other  costly,  flaunting  compliances  with 
fashion,  by  those  who  boast  of  superior  wealth  and 
manners.  We  shall  leave  our  gewgawed  devotees, 
to  reconcile  humiliation  in  worship  with  vanity  in 
dress.  That  is  a  problem  which  we  confess  we  have 
neither  the  right  nor  the  capacity  to  solve.  How  far 
fine  clothes  may  affect  the  personal  piety  of  the 
devotee  we  do  not  pretend  even  to  conjecture ;  but 
we  have  a  very  decided  opinion  in  regard  to  their 
influence  upon  the  religion  of  others.  The  fact  is, 
that  our  churches  are  so  fluttering  with  birds  of  fine 
feathers,  that  no  sorry  fowl  will  venture  in.  It  is 
impossible  for  poverty  in  rags  and  patches,  or  even 
in  decent  but  humble  costume,  to  take  its  seat,  if  it 
should  be  so  fortunate  as  to  find'a  place,  by  the  side 
of  wealth  in  brocade  and  broadcloth.  The  poor  are 
so  awed  by  the  pretension  of  superior  dress  and 
"the  proud  man's  costume,"  that  they  naturally  avoid 
too  close  a  proximity  to  them.  The  church  being 
the  only  place  on  this  side  of  the  grave  designed  for 
the  rich  and  the  poor  to  meet  together  in  equal 
prostration  before  God,  it  certainly  should  always  be 
kept  free  for  this  common  humiliation  and  brother- 


348  CHURCH    DRESS. 

hood.  It  is  so  in  most  of  the  churches  in  Europe, 
where  the  beggar  in  rags  and  wretchedness,  and  the 
wealthiest  and  most  eminent,  whose  appropriate  sobri- 
ety of  dress  leaves  them  without  mark  of  external 
distinction,  kneel  down  together,  equalized  by  a  com- 
mon humiliation  before  the  only  Supreme  Being. 

No  person  can  attend  upon  the  services  of  any  oi 
our  churches  in  towns  and  cities,  and  worship  God 
without  distraction.  One  needs  continually  to  offer 
the  prayer  "take  off  my  eyes  from  beholding  vanity." 
But  he  must  be  blind  to  have  his  prayer  answered, 
for  the  sight  of  the  eyes  always  affects  the  heart. 
There  is  the  rustle  of  rich  silks,  the  flutter  of  gay  fans, 
the  nodding  of  plumes  and  flowers  ;  the  tilting  of  laces, 
of  ribbons,  of  curls ;  here  is  a  head  frizzed  till  it  looks 
more  like  a  picture  of  the  Furies  than  that  of  a  miss 
of  "sweet  sixteen,"  and  there  is  another  with  hair 
hanging  full  length,  waxed  and  dressed  to  fourfold 
its  quantity ;  there  are  bracelets  and  ear-rings,  and 
fantasies  of  every  sort  and  every  hue ;  everything 
that  is  absurd  and  foolish  in  fashion,  and  everything 
that  is  grotesque  and  ridiculous  in  the  trying  to  ape 
fashion;  all  these  are  before  you,  between  you  and 
the  speaker,  the  altar  whereon  is  laid  the  sacrifice  of 
prayer,  and  from  whence  the  truth  is  dispensed ! 
How  can  you  worship  God?  how  can  you  hear  with 
any  profit  ? 

With  dress  and  fashion,  its  propriety,  its  sin  or 
folly,  in  the  abstract,  we  are  not  now  dealing;  only 
with  its  improper  display  in  the  house  of  God.  If 
persons  have  the  taste,  and  the  means  to  gratify  that 


MANNERS.  349 

taste,  in  expensive,  showy  apparel,  let  them  have   it 
to  display  at  home,  or  abroad,  at  parties,  at  the  opera 
—  anywhere,  but  in  the  sanctuary. 

The  adoption  of  more  simple  apparel  for  church  on 
the  part  of  the  rich,  in  this  country,  would  have  the 
effect,  certainly  not  of  diminishing  their  own  personal 
piety,  but  probably  of  increasing-  the  disposition  for 
religious  observance  on  the  part  of  the  poor. 


MANNERS  are  different  in  every  country ;  but  true 
politeness  is  everywhere  the  same.  Manners,  which 
take  up  so  much  of  our  attention,  are  only  artificial 
helps  which  ignorance  assumes  in  order  to  imitate 
politeness,  which  is  the  result  of  good  sense  and 
good  nature.  A  person  possessed  of  those  qualities, 
though  he  had  never  seen  a  court,  is  truly  agreeable ; 
and  if  without  them,  would  continue  a  clown,  though 
he  had  been  all  his  life  a  gentleman  usher.  He  who 
assumes  airs  of  importance  exhibits  his  credentials  of 
insignificance.  There  is  no  policy  like  politeness ; 
and  a  good  manner  is  the  best  thing  in  the  world  to 
get  a  good  name,  or  to  supply  the  want  of  it.  Good 
manners  are  a  part  of  good  morals,  and  it  is  as 
much  our  duty  as  our  interest  to  practice  in  both. 
Good  manners  is  the  art  of  making  those  around  us 
easy.  Whoever  makes  the  fewest  persons  uneasy  is 


350  MANNERS. 

the  best  bred  man  in  the  company.  Good  manners 
should  begin  at  home.  Politeness  it  not  an  article  to 
be  worn  in  all  dress  only,  to  be  put  on  when  we  have 
a  complimentary  visit.  A  person  never  appears  so 
ridiculous  by  the  qualities  he  has,  as  by  those  he 
affects  to  have.  He  gains  more  by  being  contented 
to  be  seen  as  he  is,  than  by  attempting  to  appear 
what  he  is  not.  Good  manners  is  the  result  of  much 
good  sense,  some  good  nature,  and  a  little  self-denial, 
for  the  sake  of  others,  and  with  a  view  to  obtain  the 
same  indulgence  from  them.  "Manners  make  the 
man,"  says  the  proverb.  It  may  be  true  that  some 
men's  manners  have  been  the  making  of  them ;  but 
as  manners  are  rather  the  expression  of  the  man,  it 
would  be  more  proper  to  say  —  the  man  makes  the 
manners.  Social  courtesies  should  emanate  from  the 
heart,  for  remember  always  that  the  worth  of  manners 
consists  in  their  being  the  sincere  expression  of  feel- 
ings. Like  the  dial  of  the  watch,  they  should  indi- 
cate that  the  work  within  is  good  and  true. 

The  young  should  be  mannerly,  but  they  feel  timid, 
bashful  and  self-distrustful  the  moment  they  are  ad- 
dressed by  a  stranger,  or  appear  in  company.  There 
is  but  one  way  to  get  over  this  feeling,  and  acquire 
easy  and  graceful  manners,  and  that  is  to  do  the  best 
they  can  at  home  as  well  as  abroad.  Good  manners 
are  not  learned  so  much  as  acquired  by  habit.  They 
grow  upon  us  by  use.  We  must  be  courteous,  agree- 
able, civil,  kind,  gentlemanly,  and  manly  at  home,  and 
then  it  will  become  a  kind  of  second  nature  every- 
where. A  coarse,  rough  manner  at  home  begets  a 


MANNERS.  351 

habit  of  roughness,  which  we  cannot  lay  off  if  we  try, 
when  we  go  among-  strangers.  The  most  agreeable 
persons  in  company  are  those  who  are  the  most 
agreeable  at  home.  Home  is  the  school  for  all  the 
best  things. 

Good  manners  are  an  essential  part  of  life-educa- 
tion, and  their  importance  cannot  be  too  largely  mag- 
nified, when  we  consider  that  they  are  the  outward 
expression  of  an  inward  virtue.  And  how  often  is 
this  exhibition  of  the  virtues  of  frankness,  gentleness 
and  sweet  simplicity,  the  safest  and  surest  recommen- 
dation of  those  who  come  to  us  as  strangers  in  quest 
of  friendly  aid.  It  is  quite  marvellous,  from  the  fact 
that  by  no  special  training,  no  aristocratic  examples, 
no  conventionalities  but  those  of  nature,  the  gifts  of 
good  sense,  a  true  sense  of  propriety  and  native  tact, 
are  sufficient  qualifications  to  enable  us  to  glide  freely 
and  irreproachably  among  the  elaborated  subjects  of 
a  regal  court.  A  foreigner  once  remarked  to  me, 
"An  American  is  received  in  any  circle  in  England," 
but  were  we  boorish  in  manner,  and  without  mental 
accomplishments,  this  privilege  would  not  be  ac- 
corded us. 

The  true  art  of  being  agreeable  is  to  appear  well 
pleased  with  all  the  company,  and  rather  to  seem  well 
entertained  with  them,  than  to  bring  entertainment  to 
them.  A  man  thus  disposed,  perhaps,  may  not  have 
much  sense,  learning,  nor  any  wit,  but  if  he  have 
common  sense,  and  something  friendly  in  his  behavior, 
it  conciliates  men's  minds  more  than  the  brightest 
parts  without  this  disposition ;  it  is  true  indeed  that 


352  MANNERS. 

we  should  not  dissemble  and  flatter  in  company ;  but 
a  man  may  be  very  agreeable,  strictly  consistent  with 
truth  and  sincerity,  by  a  prudent  silence  where  he 
cannot  concur,  and  a  pleasing  assent  where  he  can. 
Now  and  then  you  meet  with  a  person  so  exactly 
formed  to  please  that  he  will  gain  upon  every  one 
who  hears  or  beholds  him ;  this  disposition  is  not 
merely  the  gift  of  nature,  but  frequently  the  effect  of 
much  knowledge  of  the  world,  and  a  command  over 
the  passions. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  the  agreeable  should  be  so 
often  found  in  unison  with  the  frivolous,  for  frivolity 
makes  great  encroachments  upon  dignity. 

Levity  of  manners  is  prejudicial  to  every  virtue. 
Avoid  all  sourness  and  austerity  of  manners.  Virtue 
is  a  pleasant  and  agreeable  quality,  and  gay  and  civil 
wisdom  is  always  engaging. 

There  are  a  thousand  pretty,  engaging  little  ways, 
which  every  person  may  put  on,  without  running  the 
risk  of  being  deemed  either  affected  or  foppish.  The 
sweet  smile ;  the  quiet,  cordial  bow ;  the  earnest 
movement  in  addressing  a  friend  —  more  especially 
a  stranger  —  whom  one  may  recommend  to  our  good 
regards  ;  the  inquiring  glance  ;  the  graceful  attention, 
which  is  so  captivating  when  united  with  self-posses- 
sion ;  these  will  secure  us  the  good  regards  of  even 
a  churl.  Above  all,  there  is  a  certain  softness  of 
manner  which  should  be  cultivated,  and  which,  in 
either  man  or  woman,  adds  a  charm  that  always 
entirely  compensates  for  a  lack  of  beauty. 

Lord  Chatham,  who  was  almost  as  remarkable  for 


MANNERS.  353 

his  manners  as  for  his  eloquence  and  public  spirit,  has 
thus  defended  good  breeding:  "  Benevolence  is  trifles, 
or  a  preference  of  others  to  ourselves  in  the  little  daily 
occurrences  of  life." 

Says  Emerson,  "I  wish  cities  would  teach  their  best 
lesson  — of  quiet  manners."  It  is  the  foible  especially 
of  American  youth  —  pretension.  The  mark  of  the 
man  of  the  world  is  absence  of  pretension.  He  does 
not  make  a  speech ;  he  takes  a  low  business  tone, 
avoids  all  brag,  is  nobody,  dresses  plainly,  promises 
not  at  all,  performs  much,  speaks  in  monosyllables, 
hugs  his  fact.  He  calls  his  employment  by  its  lowest 
name,  and  so  takes  from  evil  tongues  their  sharpest 
weapon.  His  conversation  clings  to  the  weather  and 
the  news,  yet  he  allows  himself  to  be  surprised  into 
thought,  and  the  unlocking  of  his  learning  and  phi- 
losophy. 

One  of  the  most  marked  tests  of  character  is  the 
manner  in  which  we  conduct  ourselves  toward  others. 
A  graceful  behavior  toward  superiors,  inferiors,  and 
equals,  is  a  constant  source  of  pleasure.  It  pleases 
others  because  it  indicates  respect  for  their  personality, 
but  it  gives  tenfold  more  pleasure  to  ourselves.  Every 
man  may  to  a  large  extent  be  a  self-educator  in  good 
behavior,  as  in  everything  else ;  he  can  be  civil  and 
kind,  if  he  will,  though  he  have  not  a  penny  in  his 
purse. 

If  dignity  exist  in  the  mind,  it  will  not  be  wanting 
in  the  manners.  When  no  seat  was  offered  to  the 
Indian  chief  Tecumseh,  in  the  council,  and  he  ex- 
claimed, in  a  spirit  of  elevated  but  offended  pride,  (nt 


354  MANNERS. 

the  same  time  wrapping  his  blanket  around  him), 
"The  sun  is  my  father,  and  the  earth  is  my  mother,  I 
will  recline  upon  her  bosom,"  and  then  seated  himself 
upon  the  ground,  he  displayed  a  striking  instance  of 
genuine  and  manly  dignity.  He  might  have  stood 
for  centuries,  making  Parisian  attitudes  and  grimaces, 

"  With  studied  gestures  or  well-practised  smiles," 

i 

and  not  have  been  half  so  noble,  commanding  and 
dignified,  as  by  this  sublime  expression  and  this  sim- 
ple act. 

Dr.  Hall  says:  "The  language  of  a  man  is  a  rea- 
sonable good  index  of  his  character:  the  triffler 
abounds  in  slang  words  and  slang  phrases ;  the  vul- 
gar and  low  bred  use  most  glibly  the  depreciative 
adjective ;  they  revel  in  the  expletives  of  liar,  scoun- 
drel, swindler;  the  educated,  the  cultivated/and  the 
refined,  speak  softly,  quietly,  gently;  every  word  is 
uttered  with  composure,  even  under  circumstances  of 
aggravation ;  if  annoyed,  their  severest  reproof  is 
expressive  silence ;  and  always  they  maintain  their 
self-respect." 

Manners  are  the  ornament  of  action  ;  and  there  is  a 
way  of  speaking  a  kind  word,  or  of  doing  a  kind 
thing,  which  greatly  enhances  their  value.  What 
seems  to  be  done  with  a  grudge,  or  as  an  act  of  con- 
descension, is  scarcely  accepted  as  a  favor.  Yet 
there  are  men  who  pride  themselves  upon  their  gruff- 
ness  ;  and  though  they  may  possess  virtue  and  capa- 
city, their  manner  is  often  formed  to  render  them 
almost  insupportable.  It  is  difficult  to  like  a  man 


MANNERS.  355 

who,  though  he  may  not  pull  your  nose,  habitually 
wounds  your  self-respect,  and  takes  a  pride  in  saying- 
disagreeable  things  to  you.  There  are  others  who 
are  dreadfully  condescending,  and  cannot  avoid  seiz- 
ing upon  every  small  opportunity  of  making  their 
greatness  felt. 

The  cultivation  of  manner — though  in  excess  it  is 
foppish  and  foolish  —  is  highly  necessary  in  a  person 
who  has  occasion  to  negotiate  with  others  in  matters 
of  business.  Affability  and  good  breeding  may  even 
be  regarded  as  essential  to  the  success  of  a  man  in 
any  eminent  station  and  enlarged  sphere  of  life ;  for 
the  want  of  it  has  not  unfrequently  been  found  in  a 
great  measure  to  neutralize  the  results  of  much  indus- 
try, integrity,  and  honesty  of  character.  There  are, 
no  doubt,  a  few  strong  tolerant  minds  which  can  bear 
with  defects  and  angularities  of  manner,  and  look  only 
to  the  more  genuine  qualities ;  but  the  world  at  large 
is  not  so  forbearing,  and  cannot  help  forming  its 
judgments  and  likings  mainly  according  to  outward 
conduct. 

Agreeable  manners  contribute  wonderfully  to  a 
man's  success.  Take  two  men,  possessing  equal 
advantages  in  every  other  respect;  but  let  one  be 
gentlemanly,  kind,  obliging  and  conciliating ;  the  other 
disobliging,  rude,  harsh  and  insolent,  and  the  one  will 
become  rich  while  the  other  will  starve. 

Good  manners  are  not  only  an  embellishment  to 
personal  charms,  but  an  excellent  substitute  for  them 
when  they  do  not  exist.  When  the  attractions  of 
beauty  have  disappeared,  there  should  be  an  elegance 


356  MANNERS. 

and  refinement  of  manner  to  supply  their  place. 
Beauty  is  the  gift  of  nature,  but  manners  are  acquired 
by  cultivation  and  practice ;  and  the  neglect  of  them 
is  seldom  pardoned  by  the  world,  which  exacts  this 
deference  to  its  opinions,  and  this  conformity  to  the 
least  mistakable  of  its  judgments 

The  accomplishments  so  much  esteemed  in  some 
parts  of  the  world,  may  be  disregarded  elsewhere, 
but  wisdom  and  virtue,  intelligence  and  worth,  are 
universally  respected  and  appreciated,  and  exhibit 
that  kind  of  deportment  which  is  everywhere  approved 
and  honored. 

If  Christianity  had  no  higher  recommendation  than 
this,  that  it  makes  a  man  a  gentleman,  it  would  still 
be  an  invaluable  element.  The  New  Testament 
inculcates  good  manners.  Our  Savior  was  courte- 
ous even  to  his  persecutors.  Look  at  Paul  before 
Agrippa !  His  speech  is  a  model  of  dignified  cour- 
tesy as  well  as  of  persuasive  eloquence.  A  spirit  of 
kindly  consideration  for  all  men  characterized  the 
Twelve.  The  same  mild,  self-sacrificing-  spirit  which 
pervaded  the  sayings  and  doings  of  the  early  disciples 
is  exhibited  by  the  true  followers  of  the  cross  at  the 
present  day.  A  man,  it  is  true,  may  be  superficially 
polite  without  being  a  Christian ;  but  a  Christian,  by 
the  very  conditions  of  his  creed  and  the  obligations 
of  his  faith,  is  necessarily  in  mind  and  soul  —  and 
therefore  in  word  and  act — a  gentleman. 


THE    TRUE    GENTLEMAN.  357 


WHEN  you  have  found  a  man,  you  have  not  far  to 
go  to  find  a  gentleman.  You  cannot  make  a  gold 
ring  out  of  brass.  You  cannot  change  a  Cape  May 
crystal  to  a  diamond.  You  cannot  make  a  gentleman 
till  you  first  find  a  man. 

To  be  a  gentleman  it  is  not  sufficient  to  have  had  a 
grandfather.  To  be  a  gentleman  does  not  depend 
on  the  tailor  or  the  toilet.  Blood  will  degenerate. 
Good  clothes  are  not  good  habits. 

A  gentleman  is  a  man  who  is  gentle.  Titles,  grace- 
ful accomplishments,  superior  culture,  princely  wealth, 
great  talents,  genius,  do  not  constitute  a  man  with  all 
the  attributes  needed  to  make  him  a  gentleman.  He 
may  be  awkward,  angular,  homely,  or  poor,  and  yet 
belong  to  the  uncrowned  aristocracy.  His  face  may 
be  bronzed  at  the  forge  or  bleached  in  the  mill,  his 
hand  huge  and  hard,  his  patched  vest,  like  Joseph's 
coat  of  many  colors,  and  he  may  still  be  a  true  gen- 
tleman. The  dandy  is  a  dry  goods-  sign  and  not  a 
gentleman,  for  he  depends  upon  dress  and  not  upon  his 
honor  and  virtue,  for  his  passport  to  the  best  circles 
of  society.  "The  man  who  has  no  money  is  poor, 
he  who  has  nothing  but  money  is  poorer  than  he," 
and  is  not  a  gentleman.  Some  of  the  most  distin- 
guished men  in  the  world  of  letters,  in  the  world  of 
art,  have  been  unamiable,  gross,  vulgar,  ungentle, 
consequently  not  gentlemen. 


358  THE    TRUE    GENTLEMAN. 

The  union  of  gentleness  of  manners  with  firmness 
of  mind  are  noticeable  in  the  true  gentleman.  When 
in  authority,  and  having  a  right  to  command,  his 
commands  are  delivered  with  mildness  and  gentleness, 
and  willingly  obeyed.  Good  breeding  is  the  great 
object  of  his  thoughts  and  actions,  and  he  observes 
carefully  the  behavior  and  manners  of  those  who 
are  thus  distinguished. 

'  It  is  a  wrong  notion  which  many  have,  that  nothing 
more  is  due  from  them  to  their  neighbors  than  what 
results  from  a  principle  of  honesty,  which  commands 
us  to  pay  our  debts,  and  forbids  us  to  do  injuries ; 
whereas  a  gentleman  gains  the  esteem  of  all  by  a 
thousand  little  civilities,  complacencies,  and  endeavors 
to  give  others  pleasure. 

He  is  careful  to  have  thoughts  and  sentiments 
worthy  of  him,  as  virtue  raises  the  dignity  of  man, 
while  vice  degrades  him.  True  greatness  lies  in  the 
heart ;  it  must  be  elevated  by  aspiring  to  great  things; 
and  by  daring  to  think  himself  worthy  of  them. 
Others  may  attract  us  through  the  splendor  of  some 
special  faculty,  or  the  eminency  of  some  special 
virtye,  but  in  his  case  it  is  the  whole  individual  we 
admire  and  love,  and  the  faculty  takes  its  peculiar 
character,  the  virtue  acquires  its  subtile  charm, 
because  considered  as  an  outgrowth  of  the  beautiful, 
beneficent,  and  bounteous  nature  in  which  it  had  its 
root.  He  insults  not  the  poor  with  condescension,  nor 
courts  the  rich  with  servility,  but  takes  his  place  on  an 
easy  equality  and  fraternity  with  all,  without  the 
pretense  of  being  the  inferior  of  any. 


THE    TRUE    GENTLEMAN.  359 

There  is  true  dignity  in  labor,  and  no  true  dignity 
without  it.  He  who  looks  down  scornfully  on  labor 
is  like  the  man  who  had  a  mouth  and  no  hands,  and 
yet  made  faces  at  those  who  fed  him  —  mocking  the 

»  c> 

fingers  that  brought  bread  to  his  lips.  He  who  writes 
a  book,  or  builds  a  house,  or  tills  a  farm,  or  follows 
any  useful  employment,  lives  to  some  purpose,  and 
contributes  something  to  the  fund  of  human  happiness. 

Garibaldi,  the  greatest  hero  of  the  age,  is  a  work- 
ing man.  Daniel  Webster  knit  his  iron  frame  into 
strength  by  working  on  his  father's  farm  when  young. 

A  gentleman  is  a  human  being,  combining  a 
woman's  tenderness  with  a  man's  courage.  He  is 
just  a  gentleman :  no  more,  no  less ;  a  diamond 
polished  that  was  first  a  diamond  in  the  rough.  A 
gentleman  is  gentle.  A  gentleman  is  modest.  A 
gentleman  is  courteous.  A  gentleman  is  slow  to 
take  offense,  as  being  one  who  never  gives  it.  A 
gentleman  is  slow  to  surmise  evil,  as  being  one  who 
never  thinks  it.  A  gentleman  subjects  his  appetites. 
A  gentleman  refines  his  taste.  A  gentleman  subdues 
his  feelings.  A  gentleman  controls  his  speech.  A 
gentleman  deems  every  other  other  better  than  him- 
self. 

Sir  Philip  Sydney  was  never  so  much  of  a  gentle- 
man—  mirror  though  he  was  of  English  knighthood 
—  as  when,  upon  the  field  of  Zutphen,  as  he  lay  in 
his  own  blood,  he  waived  the  draught  of  cool  spring 
water  that  was  to  quench  his  dying  thirst,  in  favor  of 
a  dying  soldier. 

St.  Paul  describes  a  gentleman  when  he  exhorted 


360  THE    TRUE    GENTLEMAN. 

the  Philippian  Christians:  "Whatsoever  things  are 
true,  whatsoever  things  are  pure,  whatsoever  things 
are  lovely,  whatsoever  things  are  of  good  report,  if 
there  be  any  virtue,  and  if  there  be  any  praise,  think 
of  these  things."  And  Dr.  Isaac  Barlow,  in  his 
admirable  sermon  on  the  callings  of  a  gentleman, 
pointedly  says:  "He  should  labor  and  study  to  be  a 
leader  unto  virtue,  and  a  notable  promoter  thereof; 
directing  and  exciting  men  thereto  by  his  exemplary 
conversation ;  encouraging  them  by  his  countenance 
and  authority ;  rewarding  the  goodness  of  meaner 
people  by  his  bounty  and  favor ;  he  should  be  such  a 
gentleman  as  Noah,  who  preached  righteousness  by 
his  words  and  works  before  a  profane  world." 

One  very  frequently  hears  the  remark  made,  that 
such  and  such  a  man  "can  be  a  gentleman  Avhen  he 
pleases."  Now  when  our  reader  next  hears  this 
expression  made  use  of,  let  him  call  to  mind  the  fol- 
lowing: He  who  "can  be  a  gentleman  when  he 
pleases,"  never  pleases  to  be  anything  else.  A  gen- 
tleman, like  porcelain  ware,  must  be  painted  before 
he  is  glazed.  There  can  be  no  change  after  the 
burning  in. 

The  sword  of  the  best-tempered  metal  is  the  most 
flexible.  So  the  truly  generous  are  the  most  pliant 
and  courteous  in  their  behavior  to  their  inferiors. 

The  true  gentleman  is  one  whose  nature  has  been 
fashioned  after  the  highest  models.  His  qualities 
depend  not  upon  fashion  or  manners,  but  upon  moral 
worth  —  not  on  personal  possessions,  but  on  personal 
qualities  The  psalmist  briefly  describes  him  as  one 


THE    TRUE    GENTLEMAN.  361 

'"that  walketh  uprightly,  and  worketh  righteousness, 
and  speaketh  the  truth  in  his  heart." 

The  gentleman  is  eminently  distinguished  by  his 
self-respect.  He  values  his  character  —  not  so  much 
of  it  only  as  can  be  seen  by  others,  but  as  he  sees  it 
himself,  having  regard  for  the  approval  of  his  inward 
monitor.  And,  as  he  respects  himself,  so,  by  the 
same  law,  does  he  respect  others.  Humanity  is 
sacred  in  his  eyes,  and  thence  proceed  politeness  and 
forbearance,  kindness  and  charity. 

The  true  gentleman   has  a  keen  sense  of  honor- 
scrupulously  avoiding  mean  actions.      His  standard  of 
probity    in    word  and  action  is  high.      He  does  not 
shuffle  nor  prevaricate,  dodge  nor  skulk ;   but  is  hon- 
est, upright,  and  straitforward.      His  law  is  rectitude 
—  action  in  right  lines.     When  he  says  yes,  it  is  a 
law ;    and    he    dares    to   say    the    valient    no    at    the 
fitting  season.     The  gentleman  will  not  be  bribed ; 
only  the  low-minded  and  unprincipled  will  sell  them- 
selves to  those  who  are  interested  in  buying  them. 

Riches  and  rank  have  no  necessary  connection 
with  genuine  gentlemanly  qualities.  The  poor  man 
may  be  a  true  gentleman  —  in  spirit  and  in  daily  life. 
He  may  be  honest,  truthful,  upright,  polite,  temperate, 
•courageous,  self-respecting  and  self-helping  —  that  is, 
be  a  true  gentleman.  The  poor  man  with  a  rich 
spirit  is  in  all  ways  superior  to  the  rim  man  with  a 
poor  spirit.  To  borrow  St.  Paul's  words,  the  former 
is  as  "having  nothing,  yet  possessing  all  things," 
while  the  other,  though  possessing  all  things,  has 
nothing.  The  first  hopes  everything  and  fears  noth- 


362  WIT. 

% 

ing;  the  last  hopes  nothing  and  fears  everything. 
Only  the  poor  in  spirit  are  really  poor.  He  who  has 
lost  all,  but  retains  his  courage,  cheerfulness,  hope, 
virtue  and  self-respect,  is  a  true  gentleman. 


Sense  is  our  helmet  —  wit  is  but  a  plume  ; 
The  plume  exposes  —  'tis  our  helmet  saves. 

—  YOUNG 


GENUINE  wit  may  be  compared  to  a  kaleidoscope ; 
every  time  it  is  shaken,  it  presents  new  and  beautiful 
figures.  The  latter  pleases  the  eye,  and  enables 
carpet  and  calico  manufacturers  to  obtain  new  designs 
for  their  work ;  the  former  pleases  us  all  over,  with- 
out really  benefiting  us  anywhere.  Like  lightning 
in  a  dark  night,  its  illuminations  are  momentary  in 
most  cases.  Sheridans  and  Hopkinsons  are  very 
rare.  They  were  as  highly  charged  with  wit,  as  a 
cloud  sometimes  is  with  the  electric  fluid,  emitting 
flashes  in  such  quick  succession,  that  darkness  is 
scarcely  visible. 

Wit,  like  a  coquette,  is  pleasing  company  for  the 
time  being ;  but  no  man,  knowing  her  character,  courts 
her  with  the  intention  of  marriage,  and  no  sensible 
man  is  long  edified  with  her  company. 

He  who  endeavors  to  oblige  the  company  by  his 
good-nature  never  fails  of  being  beloved :  he  who* 


WIT.  363 

strives  to  entertain  it  by  his  good  sense  never  fails 
of  being  esteemed ;  but  he  who  is  continually  aiming 
to  be  witty,  generally  miscarries  of  his  aim ;  his  aim 
and  intention  is  to  be  admired,  but  it  is  his  misfortune 
either  to  be  despised  or  detested  —  to  be  despised 
for  want  of  judgment,  or  detested  for  want  of  humil- 
ity. For  we  seldom  admire  the  wit  when  we  dislike 
the  man.  There  are  a  great  many  to  whom  the  world 
would  be  so  charitable  as  to  allow  them  to  have  a 
tolerable  share  of  common  sense,  if  they  did  not  set 
up  for  something  more  than  common,  something  very 
uncommon,  bright,  and  witty.  If  we  would  trace  the 
faults  of  conversation  up  to  their  original  source,  most 
of  them  might,  we  believe,  be  resolved  into  this,  that 
men  had  rather  appear  shining  than  be  agreeable  in 
company.  They  are  endeavoring  to  raise  admiration 
instead  of  gaining  love  and  good-will,  whereas  the 
latter  is  in  everybody's  power,  the  former  in  that  01 
very  few. 

There  is  as  much  difference  between  wit  and  wis- 
dom, as  between  the  talent  of  a  buffoon  and  a  states- 
man. Wit  is  brushwood,  judgment  is  timber.  The 
one  gives  the  greatest  flame,  the  other  yields  the 
most  durable  heat;  and  both  meeting  make  the  best 
fire. 

Wit  and  wisdom  may  be  found  in  the  same  person,, 
but  when  the  former  is  flashing,  its  glare  hides  the 
latter.  It  serves  to  amuse  and  exhilarate,  but  rarely 
produces  profitable  reflection,  or  elevates  sound  com- 
mon sense.  It  is  emphatically  a  plume,  and  exposes 
the  head  it  ornaments  to  manv  an  arrow  from  the 


364  WIT. 

bow  of  revenge.  Some  wits  had  rather  lose  a  friend 
than  a  keen,  cutting  remark  upon  him.  This  has 
often  occurred,  and  is  exchanging  treasure  for  trash. 
Wit  may  obtain  many  conquests,  but  no  willing  sub- 
jects. It  is  like  echo,  it  always  has  the  last  word. 
It  is  more  difficult  to  manage  than  steam,  and  often 
wounds  by  its  explosions.  It  produces  many  bon 
mots,  and  but  few  wise  sayings.  It  is  like  some 
heartless  sportsmen,  who  shoot  every  bird  indiscrim- 
inately, and  kill  more  innocent  ones,  unfit  for  food, 
than  hawks,  that  prey  upon  our  poultry. 

Wit  loses  its  respect  with  the  good  when  seen  in 
company  with  malice ;  and  to  smile  at  the  jest  which 
plants  a  thorn  in  another's  breast,  is  to  become  a 
principal  in  the  mischief. 

Finally,  flashing  WIT  is  an  undefined  and  undefinable 
propensity  —  more  to  be  admired  than  coveted;  more 
ornamental  than  useful ;  more  volatile  than  solid ;  a 
dangerous,  sharp -edged  tool,  often  cutting  its  most 
skillful  master ;  rarely  imparting  substantial  benefits 
to  mankind ;  but  often  serious  injury. 

Let  your  wit  rather  serve  you  for  a  buckler  to 
defend  yourself,  by  a  handsome  reply,  than  the 
.sword  to  wound  others,  though  with  never  so  face- 
tious a  reproach,  remembering  that  a  word  cuts 
deeper  than  a  sharp  weapon,  and  the  wound  it  makes 
is  longer  curing.  Let  those  who  have  k,  endeavor 
to  control  it,  and  those  who  have  it  not,  can  make 
better  use  of  the  sense  they  have. 


TRUTH.  366 


GOD  is  the  author  of  truth,  the  devil  the  father  of 
lies.  If  the  telling  of  a  truth  shall  endanger  thy  life, 
the  Author  of  truth  will  protect  thee  from  the  danger, 
or  reward  thee  for  thy  damage.  If  the  telling  of  a 
lie  may  secure  thy  life,  the  father  of  lies  will  beguile 
thee  of  thy  gains,  or  traduce  the  security.  Better 
by  losing  of  a  life  to  save  it,  than  by  saving  of  a 
life  to  lose  it.  However,  better  thou  perish  than  the 
truth. 

Herodotus  tell  us,  in  the  first  book  of  his  history, 
that  from  the  age  of  five  years  to  that  of  twenty,  the 
ancient  Persians  instructed  their  children  only  in 
three  things,  viz :  to  manage  a  horse,  to  shoot  dex- 
terously with  the  bow  and  to  speak  the  truth,  which 
shows  of  how  much  importance  they  thought  it 
to  fix  this  virtuous  habit  on  the  minds  of  youth 
betimes. 

The  smallest  dew  drop  on  the  meadow  at  night 
has  a  star  sleeping  in  its  bosom,  and  the  most  insig- 
nificant passage  of  Scripture  has  in  it  a  shining 
truth.  Truth  bears  the  impress  of  her  own  divinity, 
and,  though  reason  may  not  be  able  to  take  cog- 
nizance of  the  fact,  she  may  be  filling  the  chambers 
of  the  soul  with  a  light  and  glory  that  is  not  born  of 
earth. 

The  study  of  truth  is  perpetually  joined  with  the 
love  of  virtue,  for  there  is  no  virtue  which  derives  not. 


366  TRUTH. 

its  original  from  truth,  as,  on  the  contrary,  there  is  no 
vice  which  has  not  its  beginning  from  a  lie.  Truth  is 
the  foundation  of  all  knowledge  and  the  cement  of  all 
society. 

The  adorer  of  truth  is  above  all  present  things. 
Firm  in  the  midst  of  temptation,  and  frank  in  the 
midst  of  treachery,  he  will  be  attacked  by  those  who 
have  prejudices,  simply  because  he  is  without  them, 
decried  as  a  bad  bargain  by  all  who  want  to  purchase, 
because  he  alone  is  not  to  be  bought,  and  abused  by 
all  parties  because  he  is  the  advocate  of  none ;  like 
the  dolphin,  which  is  always  painted  more  crooked 
than  a  ram's  horn,  although  every  naturalist  knows 
that  it  is  the  straightest  fish  that  swims. 

Truth  is  a  standard  according  to  which  all  things 
are  to  be  judged.  When  we  appeal  to  it,  it  should 
be  with  sincerity  of  purpose  and  honesty  of  feeling. 
Divesting  ourselves  of  all  partiality,  passion,  paradox, 
and  prejudice  —  of  every  kind  of  sophistry,  subter- 
fuge, chicanery,  concealment  and  disguise,  and  laying 
the  soul  open  to  what  is  honest,  right,  and  true,  our 
only  desire  should  be  to  judge  of  things  as  they  really 
are,  and  candidly  and  truly  to  acknowledge  and  receive 
them  as  such.  For  this  is  truth  —  the  perception  and 
representation  of  things  as  they  are. 

Truth,  divine  in  its  nature  and  pure  before  heaven, 
is  the  foundation  of  all  human  excellence,  the  key- 
stone of  all  sincere  affection,  and  the  seal  of  true 
discipleship  with  the  Good  Shepherd.  It  is  impossi- 
ble to  love  one  in  whose  truthfulness  we  cannot 
confide  ;  or  to  slight  one,  whose  words,  and  purposes, 


TRUTH.  357 

and  actions,  are  "without  dissimulation."  Truth,  or 
silence,  should  be  our  alternative ;  and  we  should  not 
disturb, the  "soul's  sweet  complacency,"  by  addicting 
ourselves  to  the  too  frequent  deceptions  of  "good 
breeding,"  or  the  "necessary  subterfuges  of  society." 
Good  breeding  needs  not  to  be  sustained  or  appre- 
ciated through  falsehood  or  affectation,  and  a  social 
system  which  involves  the  practice  of  subterfuge  is 
wrong  in  its  basis  and  corroding  in  its  tendency.  Into 
God's  holy  place  —  our  hoped-for  future  home,  and 
after  the  ineffable  beauty  of  which  every  earthly 
household,  and  circle,  and  human  heart  should  be 
modeled  —  nothing  can  enter  which  "loveth  or  maketh 
a  lie." 

No  bad  man  ever  wished  that  his  breast  was  made 
of  glass,  or  that  others  could  read  his  thoughts.  But 
the  misery  is,  that  the  duplicities,  the  temptations,  and 
the  infirmities  that  surround  us  have  rendered  the 
truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  as  hazardous  and 
contraband  a  commodity  as  a  man  can  possibly  deal 
in.  Woe  to  falsehood !  it  affords  no  relief  to  the 
breast  like  truth ;  it  gives  us  no  comfort,  pains  him 
who  forges  it,  and  like  an  arrow  directed  by  a  god, 
flies  back  and  wounds  the  archer.  If  a  man  be  sin- 
cerely wedded  to  truth,  he  must  make  up  his  mind  to 
find  her  a  portionless  virgin,  and  he  must  take  her  for 
herself  alone.  The  contract,  too,  must  be  to  love, 
cherish,  and  obey  her,  not  only  until  death,  but  beyond 
it ;  for  this  is  a  union  that  must  survive  not  only  death, 
but  time,  the  conqueror  of  death.  There  is  nothing 
which  all  mankind  venerate  and  admire  so  much  as 


368  TRUTH. 

simple  truth,  exempt  from  artifice,  duplicity,  and 
design.  It  exhibits  at  once  a  strength  of  character 
and  integrity  of  purpose  in  which  all  are  willing  to 
confide. 

Painters  and  sculptors  have  given  us  many  ideal 
representations  of  moral  and  intellectual  qualities  and 
conceptions,  and  have  presented  us  with  the  tangible 
forms  of  beauty  and  grace,  heroism  and  courage,  and 
many  others.  But  which  one  of  them  will  or  can  give 
us  a  correct  and  faithful  delineation  and  embodiment 
of  truth? — that  we  may  place  it  upon  our  altars  and 
in  our  halls,  in  public  and  in  private  places,  that  it 
may  be  honored  and  worshiped  in  every  home  and  in 
every  heart ! 

We  see  in  an  instant  the  immense  importance  of 
acquiring  and  inculcating  habits  of  the  strictest  truth. 
Whatever  so  essentially  tends  to  the  concord  and 
felicity  of  society,  it  must  be  of  momentous  conse- 
quence to  cherish  and  promulgate.  No  idea  can  be 
formed  of  the  important  effect  such  habits  would  pro- 
duce. The  most  perfect  confidence  would  not  be  the 
least  of  its  benefits,  and  the  most  perfect  inward 
tranquility.  For  no  species  of  deception  can  be 
practiced  without  causing  vexation  and  trouble  to  the 
practicer,  and  many  a  cheek  has  blushed,  and  many  a 
heart  palpitated  at  the  apprehended  or  realized 
detection  of  mistakes  and  exaggeration  in  common 
conversation.  Exaggeration  is  but  another  name 
for  falsehood ;  to  exaggerate  is  to  pass  the  bounds 
of  truth ;  and  how  can  those  bounds  be  passed, 
without  entering  upon  the  precincts  of  falsehood. 


TRUTH. 


There  can  be  but  a  true  or  a  false  representation. 
There  can  be  no  medium  ;  what  is  not  true  must  be 
false. 

Of  the  public  estimation  in  which  truth  is  held,  we 
have  numerous  examples.  Every  one  can  enter  into 
the  animating,  the  delightful  emotion  with  which 
Petrarch  must  have  received  the  gratifying  tribute 
of  public  applause,  when,  on  his  appearing  as  wit- 
ness in  a  cause,  and  approaching  the  tribunal  to  take 
the  accustomed  oaths,  he  was  informed  that  such 
was  the  confidence  of  the  court  in  his  veracity  he 
would  not  be  required  to  take  any  oath,  his  word  was 
sufficient. 

Was  not  the  praise  bestowed  on  Petrarch  a  tacit 
avowal  that  veracity  such  as  his  was  very  rarely 
known  ?  Nothing  can  be  more  easy  than  to  speak 
truth  ;  the  unwise,  the  poor,  the  ignoble,  the  youth- 
ful, can  all  equally  practice  it.  Nothing  can  be  more 
difficult  than  to  speak  falsely  ;  the  wise,  the  rich,  the 
great,  the  aged,  have  all  failed  in  their  attempts.  It 
would  be  an  easy  road  to  distinction  to  be  pre- 
eminent in  an  adherence  to  truth.  We  could  enum- 
erate many  besides  Petrarch  who  have  acquired 
respect  by  it  among  their  fellow-citizens,  and  celebrity 
in  the  page  of  history.  Can  there  be  offered  a  more 
obtainable,  a  more  gratifying,  a  more  noble  object  of 
emulation  to  the  youthful  heart? 


24 


370  JUDGMENT. 


IT  is  the  office  of  judgment  to  compare  the  ideas 
received  through  the  senses  with  one  another,  and 
thereby  to  gain  right  conceptions  of  things  and 
events.  Hence  it  by  degrees  forms  for  itself  a  stand- 
ard of  duty  and  propriety,  accumulates  rules  and 
maxims  for  conduct,  and  materials  for  reflection  and 
meditation. 

The  judgment  not  only  receives,  investigates,  and 
arranges  the  ideas  presented  to  it,  but  it  also  regu- 
lates and  directs  the  other  faculties,  where  their  exer- 
tions may  be  most  beneficial  and  compensating.  It 
also  restrains  them  from  undue  excursiveness,  and 
prevents  their  wandering  into  unprofitable  and  vicious 
efforts. 

The  most  necessary  talent  in  a  man  of  conversa- 
tion, which  is  what  we  ordinarily  intend  by  a  gentle- 
man, is  a  good  judgment.  He  that  has  this  in  per- 
fection is  master  of  his  companion,  without  letting 
him  see  it;  and  has  the  same  advantage  over  men  of 
any  other  qualifications  whatsoever,  as  one  that  can 
see  would  have  over  a  blind  man  of  ten  times  his 
strength. 

Judgment,  too,  is  abused  in  its  use,  especially  when 
used  to  judge  others.  Knaves  try  to  help  them- 
celves,  by  pretending  to  help  others.  Great  inge- 
nuity, industry,  and  perservance  are  manifested  in  the 
modes  of  attack.  False  sympathy,  flattery,  a  tender 
concern  for  your  interest,  bare-faced  impudence  and 


JUDGiMENT.  371 

hypocrisy,  make  their  attacks  in  front — whilst  slan- 
der, falsehood,  dark  innuendoes,  and  damning-  praise, 
assail  the  rear.  Pliny  says  that  Julius  Caesar  blamed 
so  ingeniously,  that  his  censures  were  mistaken  for 
praise.  Many,  at  the  present  day,  praise  only  to 
reproach.  As  has  been  observed  by  an  eminent  wri- 
ter, "They  use  envenomed  praise,  which,  by  a  side 
blow,  exposes,  in  the  person  they  commend,  such 
faults  as  they  dare  not,  in  any  other  way,  lay  open." 
Deeply  is  the  poison  of  calumny  infused  in  this  way 
— the  venom  of  a  coward,  and  the  cunning  of  a 
knave  combined. 

He  that  sees  ever  so  accurately,  ever  so  finely  into 
the  motives  of  other  people's  acting,  may  possibly  be 
entirely  ignorant  as  to  his  own :  it  is  by  the  mental  as 
the  corporal  eye,  the  object  may  be  placed  too  near 
the  sight  to  be  seen  truly,  as  well  as  so  far  off;  nay, 
too  near  to  be  seen  at  all. 

A  RIGHT  judgment 
Draws  profit  from  all  things  we  see. 

—  SHAKSPEARE. 

The  great  misfortune,  arising  from  a  disposition  to 
judge  others,  and  meddle  with  their  affairs,  consists 
in  its  being  void  of  genuine  philanthropy.  Rare 
instances  may  occur  when  a  person  intrudes  himself 
upon  another  for  good — but  such  intrusions  are,  "like 
angels'  visits,  few  and  far  between."  It  is  of  the 
contrary,  and  by  far  more  numerous  class,  that  we 
speak  —  men  and  women,  who  look  at  others  through 
a  smoked  glass — that  they  may  avoid  the  brightness 


372  JUDGMENT. 

of  the  good  qualities,  and  discover  more  clearly  the 
bad  —  who  first  perform  the  office  of  the  green  fly, 
that  other  flies  may  prey  upon  the  putridity  they 
produce  —  scavengers  of  reputation,  who  gather  the 
faults,  blemishes,  and  infirmities  of  their  neighbors 
into  a  Pandora  box  —  and  there  pamper  them,  like  a 
turtle  for  a  holiday  dinner  —  until  they  are  inflated  to 
an  enormous  size ;  they  are  then  thrown  into  the 
market,  and  astonish  every  beholder. 

Devils  blush,  and  angels  weep  over  such  a  dis- 
position as  this.  It  is  a  canker  worm  in  the  body 
politic  —  the  destroyer  of  reputation;  the  bane  of 
peace  in  society ;  the  murderer  of  innocence ;  a  foul 
blot  upon  human  nature ;  a  curse  in  community,  and 
a  disgrace  to  our  species. 

Its  baleful  influence  is  felt,  its  demoniac  effects  are 
experienced,  in  all  the  walks  of  life.  In  the  political 
arena  —  within  the  pale  of  the  church,  and  in  the 
domestic  circle  —  its  miasma  is  infused.  The  able 
statesman,  the  profound  jurist,  the  eloquent  advocate, 
the  pulpit  orator,  the  investigating  philosopher,  the 
skillful  physician,  the  judicious  merchant,  the  indus- 
trious mechanic,  the  honest  farmer,  the  day  laborer, 
the  humblest  peasant,  the  child  in  the  nursery  —  have 
all  experienced  the  scorpion  lashes  of  this  imp  of 
Satan.  Nay,  more  —  female  character,  basking  in 
the  sunshine  of  innocence,  has  often  been  withered, 
blighted,  ruined,  by  its  chilling  breath. 

Let  each  reader  examine  and  see  if  this  propen- 
sity, so  deeply  rooted  in  human  nature,  is  exercising 
an  influence  over  his  or  her  mind.  If  so,  banish  it 


PATIENCE.  373 

from  your  bosom,  as  you  would  a  deadly  viper.  Let 
its  enormity  be  held  up  to  children,  by  parents  and 
teachers,  that  they  may  learn  to  dread,  despise,  and 
avoid  it.  Teach  them  charity,  forbearance,  forgive- 
ness, and  all  the  virtues  that  adorn  our  race. 

Dear  reader,  does  this  propensity  exist  in  you/ 
heart?  If  so,  banish  it,  for  it  will  do  you  much  harm, 
and  in  time  ruin  your  soul. 

Becoming  Graces 

Are  Justice,  Verity,  Temperance,  Stableness, 
Bounty,  Perseverance,  Mercy,  Lowliness, 
Devotion,  Patience,  Courage,  Fortitude. 


No  MAN,  in  any  condition  of  life,  can  pass  his  days 
with  tolerable  comfort  without  patience.  It  is  of  uni- 
versal use.  Without  it,  prosperity  will  be  continually 
disturbed,  and  adversity  will  be  clouded  with  double 
darkness.  He  who  is  without  patience  will  be  uneasy 
and  troublesome  to  all  with  whom  he  is  connected, 
and  will  be  more  troublesome  to  himself  than  to  any 
other.  The  loud  complaint,  the  querulous  temper 
and  fretful  spirit,  disgrace  every  character:  we 
weaken  thereby  the  sympathy  of  others,  and  estrange 
them  from  offices  of  kindness  and  comfort.  But  to 
maintain  a  steady  and  unbroken  mind,  amidst  all  the 
shocks  of  adversity,  forms  the  highest  honor  of  man. 
Afflictions  supported  by  patience  and  surmounted  by 


374  PATIENCE. 

fortitude,  give  the  last  finishing  stroke  to  the  heroic 
and  the  virtuous  character.  Thus  the  vale  of  tears 
becomes  the  theatre  of  human  glory ;  that  dark  cloud 
presents  the  scene  of  all  the  beauties  in  the  bow  of 
virtue.  Moral  grandeur,  like  the  sun,  is  brighter  in 
the  day  of  the  storm,  and  never  is  so  truly  sublime 
as  when  struggling  through  the  darkness  of  an 
eclipse. 

Patience  is  the  guardian  of  faith,  the  preserver  of 
peace,  the  cherisher  of  love,  the  teacher  of  humility. 
Patience  governs  the  flesh,  strengthens  the  spirit, 
sweetens  the  temper,  stifles  anger,  extinguishes  envy, 
subdues  pride ;  she  bridles  the  tongue,  restrains  the 
hand,  tramples  upon  temptations,  endures  persecu- 
tions, consummates  martyrdom. 

Patience  produces  unity  in  the  church,  loyalty  in 
the  state,  harmony  in  families  and  societies ;  she 
comforts  the  poor  and  moderates  the  rich  ;  she  makes 
us  humble  in  prosperity,  cheerful  in  adversity,  un- 
moved by  calumny  and  reproach ;  she  teaches  us  to 
forgive  those  who  have  injured  us,  and  to  be  the  first 
in  asking  the  forgiveness  of  those  whom  we  have 
injured ;  she  delights  the  faithful  and  invites  the  un- 
believing; she  adorns  the  woman  and  approves  the 
man ;  she  is  beautiful  in  either  sex  and  every  age. 

Behold  her  appearance  and  her  attire !  Her  coun- 
tenance is  calm  and  serene  as  the  face  of  heaven 
unspotted  by  the  shadow  of  a  cloud,  and  no  wrinkle 
of  grief  or  anger  is  seen  in  her  forehead.  Her  eyes 
are  as  the  eyes  of  doves  for  meekness,  and  on  her 
eyebrows  sit'  cheerfulness  and  joy.  Her  mouth  is 


PATIENCE.  375 

lovely  in  silence ;  her  complexion  and  color  that  of 
innocence  and  security,  while,  like  the  virgin,  the 
daughter  of  Zion,  she  shakes  her  head  at  the  adver- 
sary, despising  and  laughing  him  to  scorn.  She  is 
clothed  in  the  robes  of  the  martyrs,  and  in  her  hand 
she  holds  a  sceptre  in  the  form  of  a  cross.  She  rides 
not  in  the  whirlwind  and  stormy  tempest  of  passion, 
but  her  throne  is  the  humble  and  contrite  heart,  and 
her  kingdom  is  the  kingdom  of  peace. 

Patience  has  been  defined  as  the  "courage  of  vir- 
tue," the  principle  that  enables  us  to  lessen  pain  of 
mind  or  body ;  an  emotion  that  does  not  so  much  add 
to  the  number  of  our  joys,  as  it  tends  to  diminish 
the  number  of  our  sufferings.  If  life  is  made  to 
abound  with  pains  and  troubles,  by  the  errors  and  the 
crimes  of  man,  it  is  no  small  advantage  to  have  a 
faculty  that  enables  us  to  soften  these  pains  and  to 
ameliorate  these  troubles.  How  powerful,  and  how 
extensive  the  influence  of  patience  in  performing  this 
acceptable  service,  it  is  impossible  to  judge  but  from 
experience ;  those  who  have  known  most  bodily  pain 
can  best  testify  its  power.  Impatience,  in  fact,  by 
inducing  restlessness  and  irritation,  not  only  doubles 
every  pang,  and  prolongs  every  suffering,  but  actually 
often  creates  the  trials  to  be  endured.  In  pains  of 
the  body  this  is  the  case,  but  more  potently  is  it  so  in 
all  mental  affliction.  The  hurry  of  spirits,  the  in- 
effectual efforts  for  premature  relief,  the  agitation  of 
undue  expectation,  all  combine  to  create  a  real  suffer- 
ing, in  addition  to  what  is  inflicted  by  the  cause  of 
our  impatience.  How  numberless  are  the  petty  dis- 


376  PATIENCE, 

t 

asters  effected,  the  trivial  vexations  protracted  by  this 
harassing  emotion  ;  the  loss  of  money,  time,  friends, 
reputation,  by  mistaken  earnestness  in  pursuing  vio- 
lent schemes,  in  not  pausing  to  reflect  before  decision, 
in  urging  disagreeable  or  unjust  claims,  and  in  rush- 
ing into  ill-concerted  plans  ! 

The  most  beneficent  operations  of  nature  are  the 
result  of  patience.  The  waters  slowly  deposit  their 
rich  alluvium ;  the  fruits  are  months  in  their  growth 
and  perfecting. 

To  be  wise  we  must  diligently  apply  ourselves, 
and  confront  the  same  continuous  application  which 
our  forefathers  did ;  for  labor  is  still,  and  ever  will  be 
the  inevitable  price  set  upon  everything  which  is 
valuable.  We  must  be  satisfied  to  work  energetically 
with  a  purpose,  and  wait  the  results  with  patience. 
Buffon  has  even  said  of  patience,  that  it  is  genius  — 
the  power  of  great  men,  in  his  opinion,  consisting 
mainly  in  their  power  of  continuous  working  and 
waiting.  All  progress,  of  the  best  kind,  is  slow ; 
but  to  him  who  works  faithfully  and  in  a  right  spirit, 
be  sure  that  the  reward  will  be  vouchsafed  in  its  own 
good  time.  "  Courage  and  industry,"  says  Granville 
Sharpe,  "must  have  sunk  in  despair,  and  the  world 
must  have  remained  unimproved  and  unornamented, 
if  men  had  merely  compared  the  effect  of  a  single 
stroke  of  the  chisel  with  the  pyramid  to  be  raised,  or 
of  a  single  impression  of  the  spade  with  mountains 
to  be  leveled."  We  must  continuously  apply  our- 
selves to  right  pursuits,  and  we  cannot  fail  to  advance 
steadily,  though  it  may  be  unconsciously. 


PATIENCE.  377 

Hugh  Miller  modestly  says,  in  his  autobiography: 
"The  only  merit  to  which  I  lay  claim  is  that  of 
patient  research  —  a  merit  in  which  whoever  wills  may 
rival  or  surpass  me ;  and  this  humble  faculty  of 
patience,  when  rightly  developed,  may  lead  to  more 
extraordinary  developments  of  idea  than  even  genius 
itself." 

Patience  is  a  good  nag,  says  the  proverb.  Wisely 
and  slow  ;  they  stumble  that  run  fast.  Always  have  a 
good  stock  of  patience  laid  by,  and  be  sure  you  put 
it  where  you  can  easily  find  it.  Cherish  patience  as 
your  favorite  virtue.  Always  keep  it  about  you. 
You  will  find  use  for  it  oftener  than  for  all  the  rest. 
He  who  is  impatient  to  become  his  own  master  is 
most  likely  to  become  merely  his  own  slave.  You 
can  do  anything  if  you  will  only  have  patience ;  water 
may  be  carried  in  a  sieve,  if  you  can  only  wait  till  it 
freezes.  Those  who  at  the  commencement  of  their 
career  meet  with  less  applause  than  they  deserve, 
not  unfrequently  gain  more  than  they  deserve  at  the 
end  of  it ;  though  having  grounds  at  first  to  fear  that 
they  were  born  to  be  starved,  they  often  live  long 
enough  to  die  of  a  surfeit. 

He  hath  made  a  good  progress  in  business  that 
hath  thought  well  of  it  beforehand.  Some  do  first 
and  think  afterwards.  Precipitation  ruins  the  best 
laid  designs ;  whereas  patience  ripens  the  most  diffi- 
cult, and  renders  the  execution  of  them  easy.  That 
is  done  soon  enough  which  is  done  well.  Soon  ripe, 
soon  rotten.  He  that  would  enjoy  the  fruit,  must  not 
gather  the  flower.  He  calls  to  patience,  who  is 


378  CONTENTMENT. 

patience  itself,  and  he  that  gives  the  precept  enforces 
it  by  his  own  example.  Patience  affords  us  a  shield 
to  defend  ourselves,  and  innocence  denies  us  a  sword 
to  defend  others.  Knowledge  is  power,  but  it  is  one 
of  the  slowest  because  one  of  the  most  durable  of 
agencies.  Continued  exertion,  and  not  hasty  efforts, 
leads  to  success.  What  cannot  be  cured  must  be 
endured.  How  poor  are  they  who  have  not  patience  ! 


"  Poor  and  content  is  rich,  and  rich  enough  ; 
But  riches  endless  is  as  poor  as  winter 
To  him  that  always  fears  he  shall  be  poor." 

EVERY  man  either  is  rich,  or  may  be  so;  though 
not  all  in  one  and  the  same  wealth.  Some  have 
abundance,  and  rejoice  in  it ;  some  a  competency,  and 
are  content;  some  having-  nothing,  have  a  mind  desir- 
ing nothing.  He  that  hath  most,  wants  something ; 
he  that  hath  least,  is  in  something  supplied ;  wherein 
the  mind  which  maketh  rich,  may  well  possess  him 
with  the  thought  of  store.  Who  whistles  out  more 
content  than  the  low-fortuned  plowman,  or  sings  more 
merrily  than  the  abject  cobbler  who  sits  under  the 
stall  ?  Content  dwells  with  those  who  are  out  of  the 
eye  of  the  world,  whom  she  hath  never  trained  with 
her  gauds,  her  toils,  her  lures.  Wealth  is  like  learn- 
ing, wherein  our  greater  knowledge  is  only  a  larger 
sight  of  our  wants.  Desires  fulfilled,  teach  us  to 


CONTENTMENT.  379 

desire  more ;    so    we    that  at  first  were  pleased,   by 
removing  from  that,  are  now  grown  insatiable. 

We  knew  a  man  who  had  health  and  riches,  and 
several  houses,  all  beautiful  and  ready  furnished,  and 
would  often  trouble  himself  and  family  to  be  removing 
from  one  house  to  another;  and  being  asked  by  a 
friend  why  he  removed  so  often  from  one  house  to 
another,  replied:  "It  was  to  find  content  in  some  of 
them."  But  his  friend,  knowing  his  temper,  told  him, 
"If  he  would  find  content  in  any  of  his  houses,  he 
must  leave  himself  behind  him  ;  for  content  will  never 
dwell  but  in  a  meek  and  quiet  soul."  The  inscription 
upon  the  tombstone  of  the  man  who  had  endea- 
vored to  mend  a  tolerable  constitution  by  taking  phy- 
sic, "  /  was  well ;  I  wished  to  be  better  ;  here  I  am" 
may  generally  be  applied  with  great  justice  to  the 
distress  of  disappointed  avarice  and  ambition. 

We  sometimes  go  musing  along  the  street  to  see 
how  few  people  there  are  whose  faces  look  as  though 
any  joy  had  come  down  and  sung  in  their  souls.  We 
can  see  lines  of  thought,  and  of  care,  and  of  fear- 
money  lines,  shrewd,  grasping  lines — but  how  few 
happy  lines !  The  rarest  feeling  that  ever  lights  the 
human  face  is  the  contentment  of  a  loving  soul.  Sit 
for  an  hour  on  the  steps  of  the  Exchange  in  Wall 
street,  and  you  will  behold  a  drama  which  is  better 
than  a  thousand  theatres,  for  all  the  actors  are  real. 
There  are  a  hundred  successful  men  where  there  is 
one  contented  man.  We  can  find  a  score  of  hand- 
some faces  where  we  can  find  one  happy  face.  An 
eccentric  wealthy  gentleman  stuck  up  a  board  in  a 


380  CONTENTMENT. 

field  upon  his  estate,  upon  which  was  painted  the 
following1:  "I  will  give  this  field  to  any  man  con- 
tented." He  soon  had  an  applicant.  "Well,  sir, 
are  you  a  contented  man?"  "Yes,  sir;  very." 
"Then  what  do  you  want  of  my  field?"  The  appli- 
cant did  not  stop  to  reply. 

It  is  one  property  which,  they  say,  is  required  of 
those  who  seek  the  philosopher's  stone,  that  they 
must  not  do  it  with  any  covetous  desire  to  be  rich, 
for  otherwise  they  shall  never  find  it.  But  most  true 
it  is,  that  whosoever  would  have  this  jewel  of  content- 
ment (which  turns  all  into  gold,  yea,  want  into  wealth), 
must  come  with  minds  divested  of  all  ambitious  and 
covetous  thoughts,  else  are  they  never  likely  to  obtain 
it.  The  foundation  of  content  must  spring  up  in  a 
man's  own  mind;  and  he  who  has  so  little  knowledge 
of  human  nature  as  to  seek  happiness  by  changing 
anything  but  his  own  disposition,  will  waste  his  life 
in  fruitless  efforts,  and  multiply  the  griefs  which  he 
purposes  to  remove.  No  man  can  tell  whether  he  be 
rich  or  poor  by  turning  to  his  ledger.  It  is  the  heart 
that  makes  a  man  rich.  He  is  rich  or  poor  according 
to  what  he  is,  not  according  to  what  he  has. 

It  conduces  much  to  our  content  if  we  pass  by  those 
things  which  happen  to  trouble,  and  consider  what  is 
pleasing  and  prosperous,  that  by  the  representations 
of  the  better  the  worse  may  be  blotted  out.  If  I  be 
overthrown  in  my  suit  at  law,  yet  my  house  is  left  me 
still,  and  my  land,  or  I  have  a  virtuous  wife,  or  hope- 
ful children,  or  kind  friends,  or  hopes.  If  I  have  lost 
one  child,  it  may  be  that  I  have  two  or  three  still  left 


CONTENTMENT.  381 

me.  Enjoy  the  present,  whatever  it  may  be,  and  be 
not  solicitous  for  the  future;  for  if  you  take  your  foot 
from  the  present  standing-,  and  thrust  it  forward  to 
to-morrow's  event,  you  are  in  a  restless  condition  ;  it 
is  like  refusing  to  quench  your  present  thirst  by  fear- 
ing you  will  want  to  drink  the  next  day.  If  to-mor- 
row you  should  want,  your  sorrow  would  come  time 
enough,  though  you  do  not  hasten  it;  let  your  trouble 
tarry  till  its  own  day  comes.  Enjoy  the  blessings  of 
this  day,  if  God  sends  them,  and  the  evils  of  it  bear 
patiently  and  sweetly,  for  this  day 'is  ours.  We  are 
dead  to  yesterday,  and  not  yet  born  to  to-morrow. 
A  contented  mind  is  the  greatest  blessing  a  man  can 
enjoy  in  this  world ;  and  if  in  the  present  life  his  hap- 
piness arises  from  the  subduing  of  his  desires,  it  will 
arise  in  the  next  from  the  gratification  of  them. 

Contentment  is  felicity.  .  Few  are  the  real  wants  of 
man.  Like  a  majority  of  his  troubles,  they  are  more 
imaginary  than  real.  Some  well  persons  want  to  be 
better,  take  medicine,  and  become  sick  in  good  earn- 
est ;  perhaps  die  under  some  patented  nostrum. 
Some  persons  have  wealth  —  they  want  more  —  enter 
into  some  new  business  they  do  not  understand,  or 
some  wild  speculation,  and  become  poor  indeed. 
Many  who  are  surrounded  by  all  the  substantial  com- 
forts of  life,  become  discontented  because  some 
wealthier  neighbor  sports  a  carriage,  and  his  lady  a 
Brussels  carpet  and  mahogany  chairs,  entertains 
parties,  and  makes  more  show  in  the  world  than  they, 
Like  the  monkey,  they  attempt  to  imitate  all  they  see 
that  is  deemed  fashionable ;  make  a  dash  at  greater 


382  CONTENTMENT. 

contentment ;  dash  out  their  comfortable  store  of 
wealth  ;  and  sometimes,  determined  on  quiet  at  least, 
close  the  farce  with  a  tragedy,  and  dash  their  brains 
out  with  a  blue  pill.  Discontented  persons  live  in 
open  rebellion  against  their  great  Benefactor,  and 
virtually  claim  wisdom,  more  than  infinite.  They 
covet,  they  wish,  and  wishes  are  as  prolific  as  rabbits. 
One  imaginary  want,  like  a  stool  pigeon,  brings 
flocks  of  others,  and  the  mind  becomes  so  over- 
whelmed, that  it  loses  sight  of  all  the  real  comforts  in 
possession. 

Contentment  consists  not  in  adding  more  fuel,  but 
in  taking  away  some  fire ;  not  in  multiplying  wealth, 
but  in  subtracting  men's  desires.  Worldly  riches, 
like  nuts,  tear  men's  clothing  in  getting  them,  spoil 
men's  teeth  in  cracking  them,  but  fill  no  belly  in 
eating  them.  When  Alexander  saw  Diogenes  sitting 
in  the  warm  sun,  and  asked  what  he  should  do  for 
him,  he  desired  no  more  than  that  Alexander  would 
stand  out  of  his  sunshine,  and  not  take  from  him  what 
he  could  -not  give.  A  quiet  and  contented  mind  is 
the  supreme  good ;  it  is  the  utmost  felicity  a  man  is 
capable  of  in  this  world :  and  the  maintaining  of  such 
an  uninterrupted  tranquility  of  spirit  is  the  very  crown 
and  glory  of  wisdom. 

Nature  teaches  us  to  live,  but  wisdom  teaches  us  to 
live  contented.  Contentment  is  opposed  to  fortune 
and  opinion  —  it  is  the  wealth  of  nature,  for  it  gives 
everything  we  either  want  or  need.  The  discontents 
of  the  poor  are  much  easier  allayed  than  those  of  the 
rich.  Solon  being  asked  by  Croesus  who  in  the  world 


CONTENTMENT.  333 

was  happier  than  himself,  answered,  Tellus ;  who, 
though  he  was  poor,  was  a  good  man,  and  content 
with  what  he  had,  and  died  in  a  good  old  age.  No 
line  holds  the  anchor  of  contentment  so  fast  as  a  good 
conscience.  This  cable  is  so  strong  and  compact 
that  when  force  is  offered  to  it,  the  straining  rather 
strengthens,  by  uniting  the  parts  more  closely. 

Those  who  are  contented  with  a  little  deserve 
much ;  and  those  who  deserve  much  are  far  the  more 
likely  persons  to  be  contented  with  a  little.  Content- 
ment is  oftener  made  of  cheap  materials  than  of  dear 
ones.  What  a  glorious  world  this  would  be,  if  all.  its 
inhabitants  could  say  with  Shakspeare's  shepherd: 
"Sir,  I  am  a  true  laborer,  I  earn  that  I  wear;  owe  no 
man  hate ;  envy  no  man's  happiness ;  glad  of  other 
men's  good,  contented  with  my  farm."  Half  the  dis- 
content in  the  world  arises  from  men  regarding  them- 
selves as  centres,  instead  of  the  infinitesimal  segments, 
of  circles.  Be  contented  with  enough  ;  you  may  but- 
ter your  bread  until  you  are  unable  to  eat  it.  Enough 
is  as  good  as  a  feast.  When  you  feel  dissatisfied 
with  your  circumstances,  look  at  those  beneath  you. 
There  are  minds,  said  John  Ouincy  Adams,  which 
can  be  pleased  by  honors  and  preferments,  and  I  can 
see  nothing  in  them  save  envy  and  enmity.  It  is 
only  necessary  to  possess  them  to  know  how  little 
they  contribute  to  happiness.  I  had  rather  be  shut 
up  in  a  very  modest  cottage,  with  my  books,  my 
family,  and  a  few  old  friends,  dining  upon  simple 
bacon  and  hominy  and  letting  the  world  roll  on  as  it 
likes,  than  to  occupy  the  most  high  places  which 
human  oower  can  give. 


384  CHEERFULNESS. 


GOD  bless  the  cheerful  person  —  man,  woman  or 
child,  old  or  young-,  illiterate  or  educated,  handsome 
or  homely.  Over  and  above  every  other  social  trait 
stands  cheerfulness.  What  the  sun  is  to  nature, 
what  the  stars  are  to  night,  what  God  is  to  the 
stricken  heart  which  knows  how  to  lean  upon  Him, 
are  cheerful  persons  in  the  house  and  by  the  wayside. 
Man  recognizes  the  magic  of  a  cheerful  influence  in 
woman  more  quickly  and  more  willingly  than  the 
potency  of  dazzling  genius,  of  commanding  worth, 
or  even  of  enslaving  beauty. 

If  we  are  cheerful  and  contented,  all  nature  smiles 
with  us ;  the  air  seems  more  balmy,  the  sky  more 
clear,  the  ground  has  a  brighter  green,  the  trees  have 
a  richer  foliage,  the  flowers  a  more  fragrant  smell, 
the  birds  sing  more  sweetly,  and  the  sun,  moon  and 
stars  all  appear  more  beautiful. 

Cheerfulness  !  How  sweet  in  infancy,  how  lovely 
in  youth,  how  saintly  in  age  !  There  are  a  few  noble 
natures  whose  very  presence  carries  sunshine  with 
them  wherever  they  go ;  a  sunshine  which  means  pity 
for  the  poor,  sympathy  for  the  suffering,  help  for  the 
unfortunate,  and  benignity  toward  all.  How  such  a 
face  enlivens  every  other  face  it  meets,  and  carries 
into  every  company  vivacity  and  joy  and  gladness ! 
But  the  scowl  and  frown,  begotten  in  a  selfish  heart,  and 
manifesting  itself  in  daily,  almost  hourly  fretfulness, 


CHEERFULNESS. 


385 


complaining,  fault-finding,  angry  criticisms,  spiteful 
comments  on  the  motives  and  actions  of  others, 
how  they  thin  the  cheek,  shrivel  the  face,  sour  and 
sadden  the  countenance  !  No  joy  in  the  heart,  no 
nobility  in  the  soul,  no  generosity  in  the  nature ;  the 
whole  character  as  cold  as  an  iceberg,  as  hard  as 
Alpine  rock,  as  arid  as  the  wastes  of  Sahara !  Reader, 
which  of  these  countenances  are  you  cultivating? 
If  you  find  yourself  losing  all  your  confidence  in 
human  nature,  you  are  nearing  an  old  age  of  vinegar, 
of  wormwood  and  of  gall ;  and  not  a  mourner  will 
follow  your  solitary  bier,  not  one  tear-drop  shall  ever 
fall  on  your  forgotten  grave. 

Look  at  the  bright  side.  Keep  the  sunshine  of  a 
living  faith  in  the  heart.  Do  not  let  the  shadow  of 
discouragement  and  despondency  fall  on  your  path. 
However  weary  you  may  be,  the  promises  of  God 
will,  like  the  stars  at  night,  never  cease  to  shine,  to 
cheer  and  strengthen.  Learn  to  wait  as  well  as  labor. 
The  best  harvests  are  the  longest  in  ripening.  It  is 
not  pleasant  to  work  in  the  earth  plucking  the  ugly 
tares  and  weeds,  but  it  is  as  necessary  as  sowing  the 
seed.  The  harder  the  task,  the  more  need  of  sing- 
ing. A  hopeful  spirit  will  discern  the  silver  lining  of 
the  darkest  cloud,  for  back  of  all  planning  and  doing, 
with  its  attendant  discouragements  and  hindrances, 
shines  the  light  of  Divine  promise  and  help.  Ye  are 
God's  husbandmen.  It  is  for  you  to  be  faithful.  He 
gives  the  increase. 

Be  cheerful,  for  it  is  the  only  happy  life.      The  times 
may  be  hard,  but  it  will  make  them  no  easier  to  wear 
25 


385  CHEERFULNESS. 

a  gloomy  and  sad  countenance.  It  is  the  sunshine 
and  not  the  cloud  that  makes  the  flower.  There  is 
always  that  before  or  around  us  which  should  fill  the 
heart  with  warmth.  The  sky  is  blue  ten  times  where 
it  is  black  once.  You  have  troubles,  it  may  be.  So 
have  others.  None  are  free  from  them.  Perhaps  it 
is  as  well  that  none  should  be.  They  give  sinew  and 
tone  to  life  —  fortitude  and  courage  to  man.  That 
would  be  a  dull  sea,  and  the  sailor  would  never  get 
skill,  where  there  was  nothing  to  disturb  the  surface 
of  the  ocean.  It  is  the  duty  of  every  one  to  extract 
all  the  happiness  and  enjoyment  he  can  without  and 
within  him,  and,  above  all,  he  should  look  on  the 
bright  side  of  things.  What  though  things  do  look 
a  little  dark?  The  lane  will  turn,  and  the  night  will 
end  in  broad  day.  In  the  long  run,  the  great  balance 
rights  itself.  What  is  ill  becomes  well ;  what  is  wrong 
becomes  right.  Men  are  not  made  to  hang  down 
either  heads  or  lips ;  and  those  who  do,  only  show 
ihat  they  are  departing  from  the  paths  of  true  com- 
mon sense  and  right.  There  is  more  virtue  in  one 
sunbeam  than  a  whole  hemisphere  of  cloud  and 
gloom.  Therefore,  we  repeat,  look .  on  the  bright 
side  of  things.  Cultivate  what  is  warm  and  genial  — 
not  the  cold  and  repulsive,  the  dark  and  morose. 
Don't  neglect  your  duty ;  live  down  prejudice. 

We  always  know  the  cheerful  man  by  his  hearty 
"good  morning."  As  well  might  fog,  and  cloud,  and 
vapor  hope  to  cling  to  the  sun-illumined  landscape, 
as  the  blues  and  moroseness  to  remain  in  any  coun- 
tenance when  the  cheerful  one  comes  with  a  hearty 


CHEERFULNESS.      ,  357 

"Good  morning-!"  Dear  reader,  don't  forget  to  say 
it.  Say  it  to  your  parents,  your  brothers  and  sisters, 
your  schoolmates,  your  teachers  —  say  it  cheerfully 
and  with  a  smile ;  it  will  do  you  good,  and  do  your 
friends  good.  There's  a  kind  of  inspiration  in  every 
"Good  morning!"  heartily  and  smilingly  spoken,  that 
helps  to  make  hope  fresher  and  work  lighter.  It 
seems  really  to  make  the  morning  good,  and  a  proph- 
ecy of  a  good  day  to  come  after  it.  And  if  this  be 
true  of  the  "Good  morning!"  it  is  also  of  all  kind, 
cheerful  greetings ;  they  cheer  the  discouraged,  rest 
the  tired  one,  and  somehow  make  the  wheels  of  time 
run  more  smoothly.  Be  liberal  then,  and  let  no 
morning  pass,  however  dark  and  gloomy  it  may  be, 
that  you  do  not  help  at  least  to  brighten  it  by  your 
smiles  and  cheerful  words. 

The  cheerful  are  the  busy ;  when  trouble  knocks  at 
your  door  or  rings  the  bell,  he  will  generally  retire  if 
you  send  him  word  "Engaged."  And  a  busy  life 
cannot  well  be  otherwise  than  cheerful.  Frogs  do 
not  croak  in  running  water.  And  active  minds  are 
seldom  troubled  with  gloomy  forebodings.  They 
come  up  only  from  the  stagnant  depths  of  a  spirit 
unstirred  by  generous  impulses  or  the  blessed  neces- 
sities of  honest  toil. 

What  shall  we  say  by  way  of  commending  that 
sweet  cheerfulness  by  which  a  good  and  sensible 
woman  diffuses  the  oil  of  gladness  in  the  proper 
sphere  of  home.  The  best  specimens  of  heroism  in 
the  world  are  never  gazetted.  They  play  their  role  in 
common  life,  and  their  reward  is  not  in  the  admiration 


388  CHEERFULNESS. 

of  spectators,  but  in  the  deep  joy  of  their  own 
conscious  thoughts.  It  is  easy  for  a  housewife  to 
make  arrangements  for  an  occasional  feast ;  but  let 
me  tell  you  what  is  greater  and  better :  amid  the 
weariness  and  cares  of  life;  the  troubles,  real  and 
imaginary,  of  a  family;  the  many  thoughts  and  toils 
which  are  requisite  to  make  the  family  home  of  thrift, 
order  and  comfort;  the  varieties  of  temper  and  cross- 
lines  of  taste  and  inclination  which  are  to  be  found  in 
a  large  household  —  to  maintain  a  heart  full  of  good 
nature  and  a  face  always  bright  with  cheerfulness, 
this  is  a  perpetual  festivity.  We  do  not  mean  a  mere 
superficial  simper,  which  has  no  more  character  in  it 
than  the  flow  of  a  brook,  but  that  exhaustless  patience, 
and  self-control,  and  kindness,  and  tact  which  spring 
from  good  sense  and  brave  purposes.  Neither  is  it 
the  mere  reflection  of  prosperity,  for  cheerfulness, 
then,  is  no  virtue.  Its  best  exhibition  is  in  the  dark 
back-ground  of  real  adversity.  Affairs  assume  a 
gloomy  aspect,  poverty  is  hovering  about  the  door, 
sickness  has  already  entered,  days  of  hardship  and 
nights  of  watching  go  slowly  by,  and  now  you  see 
the  triumph  of  which  we  speak.  When  the  strong 
man  has  bowed  himself,  and  his  brow  is  knit  and 
creased,  you  will  see  how  the  whole  life  of  the  house- 
hold seems  to  hang  on  the  frailer  form,  which,  with 
solicitudes  of  her  own,  passing,  it  may  be,  under 
"the  sacred  primal  sorrow  of  her  stx,"  has  an  eye 
and  an  ear  for  every  one  but  herself,  suggestive  of 
expedients,  hopeful  in  extremities,  helpful  in  kind 
words  and  affectionate  smiles,  morning,  noon  and 


CHEERFULNESS.  389 

night,  the  medicine,  the  light,  the  heart  of  a  whole 
household.  God  bless  that  bright,  sunny  face  !  says 
many  a  reader,  as  he  recalls  that  one  of  mother,  wife, 
sister,  daughter,  which  has  been  to  him  all  that  our 
words  have  described. 

The  industrious  bee  stops  not  to  complain  that 
there  are  so  many  poisonous  flowers  and  thorny 
branches  •  in  his  road,  but  buzzes  on,  selecting  the 
honey  where  he  can  find  it,  and  passing  quietly  by  the 
places  where  it  is  not.  There  is  enough  in  this  world 
to  complain  about  and  find  fault  with,  if  men  have  the 
disposition.  We  often  travel  on  a  hard  and  uneven 
road,  but  with  a  cheerful  spirit  and  a  heart  to  praise 
God  for  his  mercies,  we  may  walk  therein  with  great 
comfort  and  come  to  the  end  of  our  journey  in  peace. 

Let  us  try  to  be  like  the  sunshiny  member  of  the 
family,  who  has  the  inestimable  art  to  make  all  duty 
seem  pleasant,  all  self-denial  and  exertion  easy  and 
desirable,  even  disappointment  not  so  blank  and 
crushing ;  who  is  like  a  bracing,  crisp,  frosty  atmos- 
phere throughout  the  home,  without  a  suspicion  of 
the  element  that  chills  and  pinches.  You  have  known 
people  within  whose  influence  you  felt  cheerful,  ami- 
able, and  hopeful,  equal  to  anything !  Oh  !  for  that 
blessed  power,  and  for  God's  grace  to  exercise  it 
rightly  !  I  do  not  know  a  more  enviable  gift  than  the 
energy  to  sway  others  to  good ;  to  diffuse  around  us 
an  atmosphere  of  cheerfulness,  piety,  truthfulness, 
generosity,  magnanimity.  -  It  is  not  a  matter  of  great 
talent;  not  entirely  a  matter  of  great  energy;  but 
rather  of  earnestness  and  honesty,  and  of  that  quiet 


390  HAPPINESS. 

constant  energy  which  is  like  soft  rain  gently  pene- 
trating the  soil.  It  is  rather  a  grace  than  a  gift ;  and 
we  all  know  where  all  grace  is  to  be  had  freely  for 
the  asking. 


WRITERS  of  every  age  have  endeavored  to  show 
that  pleasure  is  in  us  and  not  in  the  object  offered  for 
our  amusement.  If  the  soul  be  happily  disposed, 
everything  becomes  cap^We  of  affording  entertain- 
ment, and  distress  will  almost  want  a  name. 

The  fountain  of  content  must  spring  up  in  the  mind, 
and  he  who  seeks  happiness  by  changing  anything 
but  his  own  disposition,  will  waste  his  life  in  fruitless 
efforts  and  multiply,  the  griefs  which  he  purposes  to 
remove. 

Man  is,  in  all  respects,  constituted  to  be  happy. 
Hence  it  is  that  he  sees  goodness  around  him  in  pro- 
portion to  the  goodness  that  is  within  him ;  and  it  is 
also  for  this  reason  that  when  he  calls  the  evil  that  is 
within  him  outside  of  him  it  also  appears  so.  If  man, 
therefore,  chooses  that  which  does  not  seem  to  him 
good,  he  can,  in  a  measure,  enjoy  it.  One  of  the 
most  evident  differences  between  the  enjoyment  of 
what  is  good  and  true  and  that  which  is  false  and  evil, 
is  that  the  first  leaves  something  to  be  re-enjoyed  in 
memory  and  after  life,  while  the  latter  leaves  regret, 
disappointment  and  suffering. 


HAPPINESS. 

A  great  part  of  the  infelicity  of  men  arises  not  so 
much  from  their  situations  or  circumstances  as  from 
their  pride,  vanity  and  ambitious  expectations.  In 
order  to  be  happy,  these  dispositions  must  be  sirb- 
dued ;  we  must  always  keep  before  our  eyes  such 
views  of  the  world  as  shall  prevent  our  expecting 
more  from  it  than  it  is  designed  to  afford.  We 
destroy  our  joys  by  devouring  them  beforehand  with 
too  eager  expectation.  We  ruin  the  happiness  of  life 
when  we  attempt  to  raise  it  too  high.  Menedemus 
was  told  one  day  that  it  was  a  great  felicity  to  have 
whatever  we  desire.  "  Yes,"  said  he,  "but  it  is  a 
much  greater  felicity  to  desire  nothing  but  what  we 
Jiave" 

The  idea  has  been  transmitted  from  generation  to 
generation  that  happiness  is  one  large  and  beauti- 
ful precious  stone  —  a.  single  gem,  so  rare  that  all 
search  after  it  is  all  vain  effort,  fruitless  and  hopeless. 
It  is  not  so.  Happiness  is  a  mosaic,  composed  of 
many  smaller  stones.  Each  taken  apart  and  viewed 
singly  may  be  of  little  value,  but  when  all  are 
grouped  together  and  judiciously  combined  and  set, 
they  form  a  pleasing  and  graceful  whole,  a  costly 
jewel. 

Trample  not  under  foot  then  the  little  pleasures 
which  a  gracious  Providence  scatters  in  the  daily  path 
while  you  are  in  eager  search  after  some  great  and 
exciting  joy. 

If  you  go  to  creation  to  make  you  happy,  the  earth 
will  tell  you  that  happiness  grows  not  in  the  furrows 
of  the  fields ;  the  sea  that  it  is  not  in  the  treasures  of 


392  HAPPINESS. 

the  deep;  cattle  will  say,  "It  is  not  on  our  backs;" 
crowns  will  say,  "It  is  too  precious  a  gem  to  be  found 
in  us." 

We  can  adorn  the  head,  but  we  cannot  satisfy  the 
heart.  Happiness  is  in  us,  not  in  things.  If  happi- 
ness consisted  in  things  only,  there  would  be  no  end 
to  the  numberless  kinds  of  it.  It  was  in  this  point  of 
view  that  the  erudite  Roman  writer,  Varro,  enumera- 
ted seven  hundred  sorts  of  happiness.  So,  also,  the 
learned  Turkish  doctor,  Ebn  Abbas,  maintained  that 
the  number  of  grievous  sins  is  about  seven  hundred, 
thus  balancing  the  accounts  between  good  and  ill. 

We  talk  of  wealth,  fame  and  power  as  undeniable 
sources  of  enjoyment,  and  limited  fortune,  obscurity 
and  insignificance  as  incompatible  with  felicity.  It  is 
thus  that  there  is  a  remarkable  distinction  between 
acquisitions  and  conditions,  theoretically  considered, 
and  practically  proved.  However  brilliant  they  may 
be  in  speculation,  wealth,  fame  and  power  are  found 
in  possession  impotent  to  confer  felicity.  However 
decried  in  prospect,  limited  fortunes,  obscurity,  insig- 
nificance, are  by  experience  proved  most  friendly  to 
human  happiness.  Le  Droz,  who  wrote  a  treatise 
upon  happiness,  describes  the  conditions  necessary 
for  it  as  consisting  of  the  greatest  fortitude  to  resist 
and  endure  the  ills  and  pains  of  life,  united  with  the 
keenest  sensibility  to  enjoy  its  pleasures  and  delights. 

"Health,  peace  and  competence,"  is  a  popular 
definition  of  happiness.  Yet  thousands,  and  tens  of 
thousands,  possess  these  great  blessings  and  are*not 
happy,  nay,  will  not  allow  that  they  have  the  means 


GRATITUDE.  393 

to  be  happy.  Madame  de  Stael,  in  her  "Delphine," 
defines  happiness  to  consist  in  the  absence  of  misery. 
How  many  human  beings  are  without  one  single  real 
evil,  and  yet  complain  of  their  fate. 

There  is  little  real  happiness  on  earth  because  we 
seek  it  not  aright  —  we  seek  it  where  it  is  not,  in 
outward  circumstance  and  external  good,  and  neglect 
to  seek  it,  where  alone  it  dwells,  in  the  close  chambers 
of  the  bosom.  We  would  have  a  happiness  in  time, 
independent  of  eternity ;  we  would  have  it  indepen- 
dent of  the  Being  whose  it  is  to  give ;  and  so  we  go 
forth,  each  one  as  best  we  may,  to  seek  out  the  rich 
possession  for  ourselves.  But  disappointment  attends 
every  step  in  the  pursuit  of  happiness,  until  we  seek 
it  where  alone  it  can  be  found.  The  original  curse  is 
still  resting  upon  us.  The  cherubim,  with  their 
flaming  swords,  still  guard  the  gates  of  Paradise, 
and  no  man  enters  therein. 

"  But  foolish  mortals  still  pursue 
False  happiness  in  place  of  true  ; 
A  happiness  we  toil  to  find, 
Which  still  pursues  us  like  the  wind." 


ALTHOUGH  the  word  gratitude,  like  the  word  trin- 
ity, is  not  to  be  found  in  the  Bible,  yet  as  the  sacred 
Scriptures  contain  many  sentiments  on  each  of  these 
subjects,  and  these  words  are  the  most  comprehen- 
sive to  convey  the  ideas,  they  are  well  adapted.  To 


394  GRATITUDE. 

deliver  our  thoughts  in  few  words  on  gratitude,  we 
apprehend  it  includes  five  things ;  first,  a  deep  and 
lively  sense  of  benefits  received ;  secondly,  an  ardent 
love  to  and  complacency  in  the  benefactor ;  thirdly, 
an  immediate  beginning  to  make  all  possible  returns 
to  the  donor,  either  in  repaying  or  else  expressing 
our  thankfulness ;  fourthly,  in  a  fixed  purpose  of 
heart  to  make  better  returns,  if  ever  in  our  power; 
and  fifthly,  a  determined  resolution  to  retain  gratitude 
for  the  benefit  or  favors  to  the  end  of  life. 

Gratitude  is  justly  said  to  be  the  mother  of  most 
virtues,  because  that  from  this  one  fountain  so  many 
rivulets  arise ;  as  that  of  reverence  unto  parents  and 
masters,  friendship,  love  to  our  country,  and  obedi- 
ence to  God.  The  ungrateful  are  everywhere  hated, 
being  under  a  suspicion  of  every  vice ;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  grateful  persons  are  in  the  estimation  of  all 
men,  having  by  their  gratitude  put  in  a  kind  of  secu- 
rity that  they  are  not  without  a  measure  of  every 
other  virtue. 

Gratitude  is  a  painful  pleasure,  felt  and  expressed 
by  none  but  noble  souls.  Such  are  pained,  because 
misfortune  places  them  under  the  stern  necessity  of 
receiving  favors  from  the  benevolent,  who  are,  as  the; 
world  would  say,  under  no  obligations  to  bestow 
them  —  free-will  offerings  made  by  generous  hearts, 
to  smooth  the  rough  path,  and  wipe  away  the  tears 
of  a  fellow  being.  They  derive  a  pleasure  from  the 
enjoyment  of  the  benefits  bestowed,  which  is  rendered 
more  exquisite  by  the  reflection  that  there  are  those 
in  the  world  who  can  feel  and  appreciate  the  woes  of" 


GRATITUDE.  395 

others,  and  lend  a  willing  hand  to  help  them  out  of 
the  ditch ;  those  who  are  not  wrapped  up  in  the 
cocoon  of  selfish  avarice,  who  live  only  for  them- 
selves, and  die  for  the  devil.  This  pleasure  is  farther 
refined  by  a  knowledge  of  the  happiness  enjoyed  by 
the  person  whose  benevolence  dictated  the  relief  in 
the  contemplation  of  a  duty  performed,  imposed  by 
angelic  philanthropy,  guided  by  motives  pure  as 
heaven.  The  worthy  recipient  feels  deeply  the  obli- 
gations under  which  he  is  placed ;  no  time  can  oblit- 
erate them  from  his  memory,  no  statute  of  limitation 
bars  the  payment ;  the  moment  means  and  opportu- 
nity are  within  his  power,  the  debt  is  joyfully  liqui- 
dated, and  this  very  act  gives  a  fresh  vigor  to  his 
long-cherished  gratitude. 

A  very  poor  and  aged  man,  busied  in  planting  and 
grafting  an  apple  tree,  was  rudely  interrupted  by  this 
interrogation:  "Why  do  you  plant  trees,  who  cannot 
hope  to  eat  the  fruit  of  them?"  He  raised  himself 
up,  and  leaning  upon  his  spade,  replied:  "Some  one 
planted  trees  for  me  before  I  was  born,  and  I  have 
eaten  the  fruit;  I  now  plant  for  others,  that  the 
memorial  of  my  gratitude  may  exist  when  I  am  dead 
and  gone."  It  is  a  species  of  agreeable  servitude  to 
be  under  an  obligation  to  those  we  esteem.  Ingrati- 
tude is  a  crime  so  shameful  that  the  man  has  not  yet 
been  found  who  would  acknowledge  himself  guilty 
of  it. 

Nothing  tenders  the  heart,  and  opens  the  gushing 
fountain  of  love,  more  than  the  exercise  of  gratitude. 
Like  the  showers  of  spring,  that  cause  flowers  to  rise 


396  HOPE. 

from  seeds  that  have  long-  lain  dormant,  tears  of  grat- 
itude awaken  pleasurable  sensations,  unknown  to 
those  who  have  never  been  forced  from  the  sunshine 
of  prosperity  into  the  cold  shade  of  adversity,  where 
no  warmth  is  felt  but  that  of  benevolence ;  no  light 
enjoyed  but  that  of  chanty ;  unless  it  shall  be  the 
warmth  and  light  communicated  from  Heaven  to  the 
sincerely  pious,  who  alone  are  prepared  to  meet,  with 
calm  submission,  the  keen  and  chilling-  winds  of  mis- 
fortune, and  who,  above  all  others,  exercise  the  virtue 
of  gratitude,  in  the  full  perfection  of  its  native  beauty. 


THE  poet  Hesiod  tells  us  that  the  miseries  of  all 
mankind  were  included  in  a  great  box,  and  that  Pan- 
dora took  off  the  lid  of  it,  by  which  means  all  of  them 
came  abroad,  and  only  hope  remained  at  the  bottom. 
Hope,  then,  is  the  principal  antidote  which  keeps  our 
heart  from  bursting  under  the  pressure,  of  evils,  and 
is  that  flattering  mirror  that  gives  us  a  prospect  of 
some  greater  good.  Some  call  hope  the  manna  from 
heaven,  that  comforts  us  in  all  extremities ;  others, 
the  pleasant  flatterer  that  caresses  the  unhappy  with 
expectations  of  happiness  in  the  bosom  of  futurity. 
When  all  other  things  fail  us,  hope  stands  by  us  to 
the  last.  This,  as  it  were,  gives  freedom  to  the  cap- 
tive when  chained  to  the  oar,  health  to  the  sick,  victory 
to  the  defeated,  and  wealth  to  the  beggar. 


HOPE. 


397 


True  hope  is  based  on  energy  of  character.  A 
strong-  mind  always  hopes,  and  has  always  cause  to 
hope,  because  it  knows  the  mutability  of  human  affairs, 
and  how  slight  a  circumstance  may  change  the  whole 
course  of  events.  Such  a  spirit,  too,  rests  upon  itself; 
it  is  not  confined  to  partial  views,  or  to  one  particular 
object.  And  if,  at  last,  all  should  be  lost,  it  has  saved 
itself — its  own  integrity  and  worth.  Hope  awakens 
courage,  while  despondency  is  the  last  of  all  evils ;  it 
is  the  abandonment  of  good  —  the  giving  up  of  the 
battle  of  life  with  dead  nothingness.  He  who  can 
implant  courage  in  the  human  soul  is  the  best  phy- 
sician. 

Earthly  hope,  like  fear,  is  confined  to  this  dim 
spot,  on  which  we  live,  move,  and  have  our  being. 
It  is  excluded  from  heaven  to  hell.  It  is  a  dashing 
blade,  with  a  great  estate  in  expectancy,  which,  when 
put  in  its  possession,  produces  instant  death.  It 
draws  large  drafts  on  experience,  payable  in  futuro, 
and  is  seldom  able  to  liquidate  them.  Hope  is 
always  buoyant,  and,  like  Old  Virginia,  never  tires. 
It  answers  well  for  breakfast,  but  makes  a  bad  supper. 
Like  a  balloon,  we  know  where  it  starts  from,  but  can 
make  no  calculation  when,  where,  and  how,  it  will 
land  us.  Hope  is  a  great  calculator,  but  a  bad  mathe- 
matician. Its  problems  are  seldom  based  on  true 
data  —  their  demonstration  is  oftener  fictitious  than 
otherwise.  Without  the  baseness  of  some  modern 
land  speculators,  it  builds  cities  and  towns  on  paper, 
that  are  as  worthless  as  their  mountain  peaks  and 
impassable  quagmires.  It  suspends  earth  in  the  air, 
and  plays  vvith  bubbles,  like  a  child,  with  a  tube  and 


398 

soap  suds.  As  with  Milo,  who  attempted  to  split  an 
oak,  and  was  caught  in  the  split  and  killed  ;  the  wedge 
often  flies  out,  and  the  operator  is  caught  in  a  split 
stick.  It  is  bold  as  Caesar,  and  ever  ready  to  attempt 
great  feats,  if  it  should  be  to  storm  the  castle  of 
despair. 

When  all  other  emotions  are  controlled  by  events, 
hope  alone  remains  forever  buoyant  and  undecayed, 
under  the  most  adverse  circumstances,  "unchanged, 
unchangeable."  Causes  that  affect  with  depression 
every  other  emotion,  appear  to  give  fresh  elasticity 
to  hope.  No  oppression  can  crush  its  buoyancy; 
from  under  every  weight  it  rebounds ;  no  disappoint- 
ments can  annihilate  its  power,  no  experience  can 
deter  us  from  listening  to  its  sweet  illusions :  it  seems 
a  counterpoise  for  misfortune,  an  equivalent  for  every 
endurance.  Who  is  there  without  hope?  The  fet- 
tered prisoner  in  his  dark  cell,  the  diseased  sufferer 
on  his  bed  of  anguish,  the  friendless  wanderer  on  the 
unsheltered  waste ;  each  cherishes  some  latent  spark 
of  this  pure  and  ever-living  light.  Like  the  beam  of 
heaven,  it  glows  with  indestructible  brilliance,  to  the 
heart  of  man  what  light  is  to  his  eye,  cheering,  bless- 
ing, invigorating. 

A  true  hope  we  can  touch  somehow  through  all 
the  lights  and  shadows  of  life.  It,  is  a  prophecy 
fulfilled  in  part ;  God's  earnest-money  paid  into  our 
hand  that  He  will  be  ready  with  the  whole  when  we 
are  ready  for  it ;  the  sunlight  on  the  hill  top  when 
the  valley  is  dark  as  death ;  the  spirit  touching  us  all 
through  our  pilgrimage,  and  then  when 'we  know 


HOPE  399 

that  the  end  is  near,  taking-  us  on  its  wings  and 
soaring  away  into  the  blessed  life  where  we  may- 
expect  either  that  the  fruition  will  be  entirely  equal 
to  the  hope,  or  that  the  old  glamour  will  come  over 
us  again  and  beckon  us  on  forever  as  the  choicest 
blessing  Heaven  has  to  give.  We  know  of  no 
condition  in  any  life  which  is  trying  to  be  real  and 
true  in  which  this  power  will  not  do  for  us  just 
what  we  have  seen  it  doing  for  the  man  who  has  to 
wait  on  the  seasons  for  his  daily  bread. 

We  can  cherish  a  sure  hope  about  our  future  and 
the  future  of  those  who  belong  to  us,  a  sunny,  eager 
onlooking  toward  the  fulfillment  of  all  of  the  promises 
God  has  written  on  our  nature.  We  may  be  all 
wrong  in  our  thoughts  of  the  special  form  in  which 
our  blessings  will  come ;  we  never  can  be  wrong 
about  the  blessing.  It  may  be  like  the  mirage  shift- 
ing from  horizon  to  horizon  as  we  plod  wearily  along, 
but  the  soul  is  bound  to  find  at  last  the  resting-place 
and  the  spring.  There  is  many  a  father  in  the  world 
to-day  trying  hard  to  get  his  head  above  water  who 
will  sink,  but  his  boys  will  swim  and  reach  the  firm 
land,  and  think  of  him  with  infinite  tenderness,  while 
he,  perhaps,  is  watching  them  from  above,  and  their 
success  may  be  one  of  the  elements  of  his  joy  in 
Heaven.  The  setting  of  a  great  hope  is  like  the 
setting  of  the  sun.  The  brightness  of  our  life  is 
gone,  shadows  of  the  evening  fall  behind  us,  and  the 
world  seems  but  a  dim  reflection  itself — a  broader 
shadow.  We  look  forward  into  the  coming  lonely 
night;  the  soul  withdraws  itself.  Then  stars  arise, 
and  the  night  is  holy. 


400 

Its  morality  is  equally  inspiring,  rich,  and  beneficent. 
It  encourages  all  things,  good,  great,  noble.  It 
whispers  liberty  to  the  slave;  freedom  to  the  captive,, 
health  to  the  sick,  home  to  the  wandering,  friends  to 
the  forsaken,  peace  to  the  troubled,  supplies  to  the 
needy,  bread  to  the  hungry,  strength  to  the  weak, 
rest  to  the  weary,  life  to  the  dying.  It  has  sunshine 
in  its  eye,  encouragement  on  its  tongue,  and  inspira- 
tion in  its  hand.  Rich  and  glorious  is  hope,  and 
faithfully  should  it  be  cultivated.  Let  its  inspiring 
influence  be  in  the  heart  of  every  youth.  It  will 
give  strength  and  courage.  Let  its  cheerful  words 
fall  ever  from  his  tongue,  and  his  bright  smile  play 
ever  on  its  countenance.  Entertain  well  this  nymph 
of  goodness.  Cultivate  well  this  ever-shining  flower 
of  the  spirit.  It  is  the  evergreen  of  life,  that  grows 
at  the  eastern  gate  of  the  soul's  garden. 

Hopes  and  fears  checker  human  life.  He  who 
wants  hope,  is  the  poorest  man  living.  Our  hopes, 
and  fears  are  the  mainsprings  of  all  our  religious 
endeavors.  There  is  no  one  whose  condition  is  so 
low  but  that  he  may  have  hopes ;  nor  is  any  one  so 
high  as  to  be  out  of  the  reach  of  fears.  Hopes  and 
disappointments  are  the  lot  and  entertainment  of 
human  life:  the  one  serves  to  keep  us  from  presump- 
tion, the  other  from  despair.  Hope  is  the  last  thing 
that  dieth  in  man,  and  though  it  be  exceeding  vari- 
able, yet  it  is  of  this  good  use  to  us,  that  while  we 
are  traveling  through  this  life,  it  conducts  us  in  an 
easier  and  more  pleasant  way  to  our  journey's  end. 
When  faith,  temperance,  the  graces,  and  other  celes- 


CHARITY.  401 

tial  powers,  left  the  earth,  says  one  of  the  ancients, 
hope  was  the  only  goddess  that  staid  behind.  Hope's 
enchantments  never  die.  Eternal  hope  !  Hope  gilds 
the  future.  Hope  cheers  and  rouses  the  soul.  Hope 
and  strive  is  the  way  to  thrive.  The  man  who  car- 
ries a  lantern  in  a  dark  night  can  have  friends  all 
around  him,  walking-  safely  by  the  help  of  its  rays, 
and  not  be  defrauded.  So  he  who  has  the  God-given 
light  of  hope  in  his  breast  can  help  on  many  others 
in  this  world's  darkness,  not  to  his  own  loss,  but  to 
their  precious  gain. 

Hope  is  an  anchor  to  the  soul,  both  sure  and  stead- 
fast, that  will  steady  our  frail  bark  while  sailing  over 
the  ocean  of  life,  and  that  will  enable  us  to  outride 
the  storms  of  time  —  a  hope  that  reaches  from  earth 
to  heaven.  This  hope  is  based  on  faith  in  the  immac- 
ulate Redeemer,  and  keeps  our  earthly  hopes  from 
running  riot  into  forbidden  paths.  The  cable  of  this 
hope  cannot  be  sundered  until  death  cuts  the  gordian 
knot  and  lets  the  prisoner  go  free.  To  live  without 
it,  is  blind  infatuation  —  to  die  without  it,  eternal  ruin. 


CHARITY  is  one  of  those  amiable  qualities  of  the 
human  breast  that  imparts  pleasure  to  its  possessor, 
and  those  who  receive  it.  It  is  of  a  modest  and 
retiring  nature.  Charity,  like  the  dew  from  heaven, 
falls  gently  on  the  drooping  flower  in  the  stillness  of 
26 


402  CHARITY. 

night.  Its  refreshing  and  reviving  effects  are  felt, 
seen,  and  admired.  It  flows  from  a  good  heart,  and 
looks  beyond  the  skies  for  approval  and  reward.  It 
never  opens,  but  seeks  to  heal  the  wounds  inflicted 
by  misfortune  —  it  never  harrows  up,  but  strives  to 
calm  the  troubled  mind.  Like  their  Lord  and  Mas- 
ter, the  truly  benevolent  man  and  woman  go  about 
doing  good  for  the  sake  of  goodness.  No  parade, 
no  trumpet  to  sound  their  charities,  no  press  to 
chronicle  their  acts.  The  gratitude  of  the  donee  is  a 
rich  recompense  to  the  donor  —  purity  of  motive 
heightens  and  refines  the  joys  of  each.  Angels  smile 
on  such  benevolence.  It  is  the  attribute  of  Deity, 
the  moving  cause  of  every  blessing  we  enjoy. 

Fair  Charity,  be  thon  my  guest, 

And  be  thy  constant  couch  my  breast. 

— COTTON. 

Charity  is  the  golden  chain  that  reaches  from 
heaven  to  earth.  It  is  another  name  for  disinterested, 
lofty,  unadulterated  love.  It  is  the  substratum  of 
philanthropy,  the  brightest  star  in  the  Christian's 
diadem.  It  spurns  the  scrofula  of  jealousy,  the  can- 
ker of  tormenting  envy,  the  tortures  of  burning 
malice,  the  typhoid  of  foaming  revenge.  It  is  an 
impartial  mirror,  set  in  the  frame  of  love,  resting  on 
equity  and  justice.  It  is  the  foundation  and  cap- 
stone of  the  climax  of  all  the  Christian  graces ;  with- 
out it,  our  religion  is  like  a  body  without  a  soul ;  our 
friendships,  shadows  of  a  shadow ;  our  alms,  the 
offsprings  of  pride,  or,  what  is  more  detestable,  the 


CHARITY.  403 

offerings  of  hypocrisy ;  our  humanity,  a  mere  iceberg 
on  the  ocean  of  time  —  we  are  unfit  to  discharge  the 
duties  of  life,  and  derange  the  design  of  our  creation. 
Were  this  heaven-born,  soul-cheering  principle  the 
mainspring  of  human  action,  the  all-pervading  motive- 
power  that  impelled  mankind  in  their  onward  course 
to  eternity,  the  polar  star  to  guide  them  through  this 
world  of  sin  and  wo,  the  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to 
would  be  softened  in  its  melting  sunbeams,  a  new 
and  blissful  era  would  dawn  auspiciously  upon  our 
race,  and  Satan  would  become  a  bankrupt  for  want 
of  business.  Wars  and  rumors  of  wars  would  cease  ; 
envy,  jealousy,  and  revenge  would  hide  their  dimin- 
ished heads ;  falsehood,  slander,  and  persecution 
would  be  unknown ;  sectarian  walls,  in  matters  of 
religion,  would  crumble  in  dust ;  the  household  of 
faith  would  become  what  it  should  be,  one  united, 
harmonious  family  in  Christ;  infidelity,  vice,  and 
immorality  would  recede,  and  happiness,  before  un- 
known, would  become  the  crowning  glory  of  man. 
Pure  and  undefiled  religion  would  then  be  honored 
and  glorified  —  primitive  Christianity  would  stand 
forth,  divested  of  the  inventions  of  men,  in  all  the 
majesty  of  its  native  loveliness.  Oh,  could  an  angel 
bear  a  balm  of  such  charity  into  our  hearts,  then 
would  earth  become  a  heaven  and  hell  a  fable. 

When  we  take  the  history  of  one  poor  heart  that 
has  sinned  and  suffered,  and  represent  to  ourself  the 
struggles  and  temptations  it  passed  through  —  the 
brief  pulsations  of  joy,  the  tears  of  regret,  the  feeble- 
ness of  purpose,  the  scorn  of  the  world  that  has  little 


404  CHARITY. 

charity ;  the  desolation  of  the  soul's  sanctuary,  and 
threatening  voices  within ;  health  gone ;  happiness 
gone  —  we  would,  fain  leave  the  erring  soul  of  our 
fellow-man  with  Him  from  whose  hands  it  came.  It 
is  then  that  the  words  of  Prior  show  their  truth  and 
beauty : 

"Soft  peace  it  brings  wherever  it  arrives, 
It  builds  our  quiet  —  '  latent  hope  revives,' 
Lays  the  rough  paths  of  nature  'smooth  and  even,' 
And  opens  in  each  breast  a  little  heaven." 

Is  any  man  fallen  into  disgrace  ?  Charity  holds 
down  its  head,  is  abashed  and  out  of  countenance, 
partaking  of  his  shame.  Is  any  man  disappointed  of 
his  hopes  or  endeavors  ?  Charity  cries  out,  alas  !  as 
if  it  were  itself  defeated.  Is  any  man  afflicted  with 
pain  or  sickness?  Charity  looks  sadly,  it  sigheth 
and  groans,  it  faints  and  languishes  with  him.  Is 
any  man  pinched  with  hard  want?  Charity,  if  it 
cannot  succor,  will  condole.  Does  ill  news  arrive? 
Charity  hears  it  with  an  unwilling-  ear  and  a  sad 
heart,  although  not  particularly  concerned  in  it.  The 
sight  of  a  wreck  at  sea,  of  a  field  spread  with  car- 
casses, of  a  country  desolated,  of  houses  burned  and 
cities  ruined,  and  of  the  like  calamities  incident  to 
mankind,  would  touch  the  bowels  of  any  man  ;  but 
the  very  report  of  them  would  affect  the  heart  of 
charity. 


KINDNESS.  405 


MORE  hearts  pine  away  in  secret  anguish,  for  the 
want  of  kindness  from  those  who  should  be  their 
comforters,  than  for  any  other  calamity  in  life.  A 
word  of  kindness  is  a  seed  which,  when  dropped  by 
chance,  springs  up  a  flower.  A  kind  word  and  pleas- 
ant voice  are  gifts  easy  to  give  ;  be  liberal  with  them  ; 
they  are  worth  more  than  money.  "  If  a  word  or  two 
will  render  a  man  happy,"  said  a  Frenchman,  "  he 
must  be  a  wretch  indeed,  who  will  not  give  it.  It  is 
like  lighting  another  man's  candle  with  your  own, 
which  loses  none  of  its  brilliancy  by  what  the  other 
gains."  If  all  men  acted  upon  that  principle  th^ 
world  would  be  much  happier  than  it  is.  Kindness 
is  like  a  calm  and  peaceful  stream  that  reflects  every 
object  in  its  just  proportion.  The  violent  spirit,  like 
troubled  waters,  renders  back  the  images  of  things 
distorted  and  broken,  and  communicates  to  them  that 
disordered  motion  which  arises  from  its  own  agita- 
tion. Kindness  makes  sunshine  wherever  it  goes  ;  it 
finds  its  way  into  hidden  chambers  of  the  heart  and 
brings  forth  golden  treasures;  harshness,  on  the 
contrary,  seals  them  up  forever.  Kindness  makes 
the  mother's  lullaby  sweeter  than  the  song  of  the 
lark,  the  care-laden  brow  of  the  father  and  man  of 
business  less  severe  in  their  expression.  Kindness 
is  the  real  law  of  life,  the  link  that  connects  earth 
with  heaven,  the  true  philosopher's  stone,  for  all  it 


406 


KINDNESS. 


touches  it  turns  to  virgin  gold ;  the  true  gold  where- 
with we  purchase  contentment,  peace  and  love. 
Write  your  name  by  kindness,  love  and  mercy  on  the 
hearts  of  the  people  you  come  in  contact  with  year 
by  year,  and  you  will  never  be  forgotten. 

In  the  intercourse  of  social  life  it  is  by  little  acts  of 
watchful  kindness  recurring  daily  and  hourly  —  and 
opportunities  of  doing  kindness,  if  sought  for,  are 
forever  starting  up  — it  is  by  words,  by  tones,  by  ges- 
tures, by  looks,  that  affection  is  won  and  preserved. 

How  sweet  are  the  affections  of  kindness !  How 
balmy  the  influence  of  that  regard  which  dwells 
around  the  fireside,  where  virtue  lives  for  its  own 
sake,  and  fidelity  regulates  and  restrains  the  thirst  for 
admiration,  often  a  more  potent  foe  to  virtue  than  the 
fiercest  lust;  where  distrust  and  doubt  dim  not  the 
lustre  of  purity,  and  where^ solicitude,  except  for  the 
preservation  of  an  unshaken  confidence,  has  no 
place,  and  the  gleam  of  suspicion  or  jealousy  never 
disturbs  the  harmony  and  tranquillity  of  the  scene, 
where  paternal  kindness  and  devoted  filial  affection 
blossom  in  all  the  frc  hness  of  eternal  spring!  I( 
matters  not  if  the  world  is  cold,  if  we  can  turn  to  ou» 
own  dear  circle  for  the  enjoyment  for  which  the  heart 
yearns.  Lord  Bacon  beautifully  says:  "If  a  man 
be  gracious  unto  strangers -it  shows  he  is  a  citizen  of 
the  world,  and  his  heart  is  no  island  cut  off  from 
other  lands,  but  a  continent  that  joins  them." 

There  is  nothing  like  kindness  in  the  world.  It  is 
the  very  principle  of  love ;  an  emanation  of  the  heart 
which  softens  and  gladdens,  and  should  be  inculcated 


KINDNESS.  407 

and  encouraged  in  all  our  intercourse  with  our  fellow 
beings.  It  is  impossible  to  resist  continued  kindness. 
We  may,  in  a  moment  of  petulance  or  passion, 
manifest  coldness  to  the  exhibition  of  good  will  on 
the  part  of  a  new  acquaintance ;  but  let  him  persist, 
let  him  continue  to  prove  himself  really  benevolent  of 
heart,  generously  and  kindly  disposed,  and  we  will 
find  our  stubborn  nature  giving  way,  even  uncon- 
sciously to  ourselves.  If  this  be  the  result  of  kind- 
ness among  comparative  strangers,  how  much  more 
certain  and  delightful  will  be  the  exercise  of  the  feel- 
ings at  home,  within  the  charmed  circle  of  friends 
and  relatives?  Home  enjoyments,  home  affections, 
home  courtesies,  cannot  be  too  carefully  or  steadily 
cultivated.  They  form  the  sunshine  of  the  heart. 
They  bless  and  sanctify  our  private  circle.  They 
become  a  source  of  calm  delight  to  the  man  of  busi- 
ness after  a  day  of  toil,  they  teach  the  merchant,  the 
trader,  the  working  man,  that  there  is  something 
purer,  more  precious  even,  than  the  gains  of  industry. 
They  twine  themselves  around  the  heart,  call  forth  its 
best  and  purest  emotions  and  resources,  enable  us  to 
be  more  virtuous,  more  upright,  more  Christian,  in  all 
our  relations  of  life.  We  see  in  the  little  beings 
around  us  the  elements  of  gentleness,  of  truth,  and 
the  beauty  of  fidelity  and  religion.  A  day  of  toil  is 
robbed  of  many  of  its  cares  by  the  thought  that  in 
the  evening  we  may  return  home  and  mingle  with  the 
family  household.  There,  at  least,  our  experience 
teaches  us  we  may  find  confiding  and  loving  bosoms, 
those  who  look  up  to  and  lean  upon  us,  and  those 


408  KINDNESS. 

also  to  whom  we  may  look  for  counsel  and  encour- 
agement. 

We  say  to  our  friends,  one  and  all,  "cultivate  the 
home  virtues,  the  household  beauties  of  existence. 
Endeavor  to  make  the  little  circle  of  domestic  life  a 
cheerful,  an  intelligent,  a  kindly,  and  a  happy  one. 
Whatever  may  go  wrong"  in  the  world  of  business  and 
trade,  however  arduous  may  be  the  struggle  for  for- 
tune or  fame,  let  nothing  mar  the  purity  of  reciprocal 
love  or  throw  into  its  harmonious  existence  the  apple 
of  discord. 

He  who  neglects  the  trifles,  yet  boasts  that,  when- 
ever a  great  sacrifice  is  called  for,  he  shall  be  ready 
to  make  it,  will  rarely  be  loved.  The  likelihood  is  he 
will  not  make  it ;  and  if  he  does,  it  will  be  much  rather 
for  his  own  sake  than  for  his  neighbors.  Life  is  made 
up,  not  of  great  sacrifices  or  duties,  but  of  little 
things,  in  which  smiles,  and  kindness,  and  small  obli- 
gations, given  habitually,  are  what  win  and  preserve 
the  heart,  and  secure  comfort. 

Give  no  pain.  Breathe  not  a  sentiment,  say  not  a 
word,  give  not  the  expression  of  the  countenance  that 
will  offend  another,  or  send  a  thrill  of  pain  to  his 
bosom.  We  are  surrounded  by  sensitive  hearts, 
which  a  word  or  look  even,  might  fill  to  the  brim  with 
sorrow.  If  you  are  careless  of  the  opinions  of 
others,  remember  that  they  are  differently  constituted 
from  yourself,  and  never,  by  word  or  sign,  cast  a 
shadow  on  a  happy  heart,  or  throw  aside  the  smiles 
of  joy  that  linger  on  a  pleasant  countenance. 

Many  lose  the  opportunity  of  saying  a  kind  thing 


KINDNESS.  409 

by  waiting-  to  weigh  the  matter  too  long.  Our  best 
impulses  are  too  delicate  to  endure  much  handling. 
If  we  fail  to  give  them  expression  the  moment  they 
rise,  they  effervesce,  evaporate,  and  are  gone.  If 
they  do  not  turn  sour,  they  become  flat,  losing  all  life 
and  sparkle  by  keeping.  Speak  promptly  when  you 
feel  kindly. 

Deal  gently  with  the  stranger.  Remember  the 
severed  cord  of  affection,  still  bleeding,  and  beware 
not  to  wound  by  a  thoughtless  act,  or  a  careless  word. 
The  stranger !  he,  perchance,  has  lived  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  love  as  warm  as  that  we  breathe.  Alone 
and  friendless  now,  he  treasures  the  images  of  loved 
ones  far  away,  and  when  gentle  words  and  warm 
kisses  are  exchanged,  we  know  not  how  his  heart 
thrills  and  the  hot  tear  drops  start.  Speak  gently.  • 
The  impatient  word  your  friends  may  utter  does  not 
wound,  so  mailed  are  you  in  the  impenetrable  armor 
of  love.  You  knew  that  it  was  an  inadvertent  word 
that  both  will  forget  in  a  moment  after,  or,  if  not,  you 
can  bear  the  censure  of  one,  when  so  many  love  you ; 
but  keenly  is  an  unkind  remark  felt  by  the  lone  and 
friendless  one. 

Like  a  clinging  vine  torn  from  its  support,  the 
stranger's  heart  begins  to  twine  its  tendrils  around 
the  first  object  which  is  presented  to  it.  Is  love  so 
cheap  a  thing  in  this  world,  or  have  we  already  so 
much  that  we  can  lightly  cast  off  the  instinctive  affec- 
tions thus  proffered?  Oh,  do  not!  To  some  souls 
an  atmosphere  of  love  is  as  necessary  as  the  vital  air 
to  the  physical  system.  A  person  of  such  a  nature 


410  KINDNESS. 

may  clothe  one  in  imagination  with  all  the  attributes 
of  goodness  and  make  his  heart's  sacrifices  at  the 
shrine.  Let  us  not  cruelly  destroy  the  illusion  by 
unkindness  ! 

Let  the  name  of  stranger  be  ever  sacred,  whether 
it  be  that  of  an  honored  guest  at  our  fireside,  or  the 
poor  servant  girl  in  our  kitchen ;  the  gray-haired  or 
the  young;  and  when  we  find  ourselves  far  from 
friends,  and  the  dear  associations  of  home,  and  so 
lonely,  may  some  kind,  some  angel-hearted  being,  by 
sympathizing  words  and  acts,  cause  our  hearts  to 
thrill  with  unspoken  gratitude,  and  thus  we  will  find 
again  the  bread  long  "cast  upon  the  waters." 

Our  friends  we  must  prize  and  appreciate  while  we 
are  with  them.  It  is  a  shame  not  to  know  how  much 
we  love  our  friends,  and  how  good  they  are,  till  they 
die.  We  must  seize  with  joy  all  our  opportunities ; 
our  duties  we  must  perform  with  pleasure  ;  our  sacri- 
fices we  must  make  cheerfully,  knowing  that  he  who 
sacrifices  most  is  noblest;  we  must  forgive  with  an 
understanding  of  the  glory  of  forgiveness,  and  use 
the  blessings  we  have,  realizing  how  great  are  small 
blessings  when  properly  accepted. 

Hard  words  are  like  hail-stones  in  summer,  beating 
down  and  destroying  what  they  would  nourish  if  they 
were  melted  into  drops. 

Kindness  is  stored  away  in  the  heart  like  rose-leaves 
in  a  drawer  to  sweeten  every  object  around  them. 
Little  drops  of  rain  brighten  the  meadows,  and  little 
acts  of  kindness  brighten  the  world.  We  can  con- 
ceive of  nothing  more  attractive  than  the  heart  when 


FRIENDSHIP. 


411 


filled  with  the  spirit  of  kindness.  Certainly  nothing 
so  embellishes  human  nature  as  the  practice  of  this 
virtue ;  a  sentiment  so  genial  and  so  excellent  ought 
to  be  emblazoned  upon  every  thought  and  act  of  our 
life.  The  principle  underlies  the  whole  theory  of 
Christianity,  and  in  no  other  person  do  we  find  it 
more  happily  exemplified  than  in  our  Savior,  who, 
while  on  earth,  went  about  doing  good.  And  how 
true  it  is  that 

"A  little  word  in  kindness  spoken, 

A  motion,  or  a  tear, 

Has  often  heal'd  the  heart  that's  broken, 
And  made  a  friend  sincere ! " 


PURE,  disinterested  friendship,  is  a  bright  flame, 
emitting  none  of  the  smoke  of  selfishness,  and  sel- 
dom deigns  to  tabernacle  among  men.  Its  origin  is 
divine,  its  operations  heavenly,  and  its  results  enrap- 
turing to  the  soul.  It  is  because  it  is  the  perfection 
of  earthly  bliss  that  the  world  has  ever  been  flooded 
with  base  counterfeits,  many  so  thickly  coated  with 
the  pure  metal,  that  nothing  but  time  can  detect  the 
base  interior  and  ulterior  designs  of  bogus  friends. 
Deception  is  a  propensity  deeply  rooted  in  human 
nature,  and  the  hobby  horse  on  which  some  ride 
through  life.  The  heart  is  deceitful  above  all 
things;  who  can  know  it? 


412  FRIENDSHIP. 

Caution  has  been  termed  the  parent  of  safety,  but 
has  often  been  baffled  by  a  Judas  kiss.  The  most 
cautious  have  been  the  dupes  and  victims  of  the  basest 
deceivers.  We  should  be  extremely  careful  who  we 
confide  in,  and  then  we  will  often  find  ourselves  mis- 
taken. Let  adversity  come,  then  we  may  know  more 
of  our  friends.  Many  will  probably  show  that  they 
were  sunshine  friends, 'and  will  escape  as  for  their 
lives,  like  rats  from  a  barn  in  flames !  Ten  to  one, 
those  who  have  enjoyed  the  most  sunshine  will  be 
the  first  to  forsake,  censure  and  reproach.  Friend- 
ship, based  entirely  on  self,  ends  in  desertion  the 
moment  the  selfish  ends  are  accomplished  or  frustrated. 

"  Disguise  so  near  the  truth  doth  seem  to  run, 
'Tis  doubtful  whom  to  seek  or  whom  to  shun  ; 
Nor  know  we  when  to  spare  or  when  to  strike, 
Our  friends  and  foes  they  seem  so  much  alike." 

Friendship  is  a  flower  that  blooms  in  all  seasons ;  it 
may  be  seen  flourishing  on  the  snow-capped  moun- 
tains of  Northern  Russia,  as  well  as  in  more  favored 
valleys  of  sunny  Italy,  everywhere  cheering  us  by  its 
exquisite  and  indescribable  charms.  No  surveyed 
chart,  no  national  boundary  line,  no  rugged  mountain 
or  steep  declining  vale  puts  a  limit  to  its  growth. 
Wherever  it  is  watered  with  the  dews  of  kindness  and 
affection,  there  you  may  be  sure  to  find  it.  Allied  in 
closest  companionship  with  its  twin-sister,  charity,  it 
enters  the  abode  of  sorrow  and  wretchedness,  and 
causes  happiness  and  peace.  It  knocks  at  the  lonely 
and  disconsolate  heart,  and  speaks  words  of  encour- 
agement and  joy.  Its  all-powerful  influence  hovers 


FRIENDSHIP.  413 

over  contending  armies  and  unites  the  deadly  foes  in 
the  closest  bonds  of  sympathy  and  kindness.  Its 
eternal  and  universal  fragrance  dispels  every  thought 
of  envy,  and  purifies  the  mind  with  a  holy  and  price- 
less contentment  which  all  the  pomp  and  power  of 
earth-  could  not  bestow.  In  vain  do  we  look  for  this 
heavenly  flower  in  the  cold,  calculating  worlding ;  the 
poor,  deluded  wretch  is  dead  to  every  feeling  of  its 
ennobling  virtue.  In  vain  do  we  look  for  it  in  the 
actions  of  the  proud  and  aristocratic  votaries  of  fash- 
ion ;  the  love  of  self-display  and  of  the  false  and  fleet- 
ing pleasures  of  the  world,  has  banished  it  forever 
from  their  hearts.  In  vain  do  we  look  for  it  in  the 
thoughtless  and  practical  throng,  who  with  loud  laugh 
and  extended  open  hands,  proclaim  obedience  to  its 
laws  —  while  at  the  same  time  the  canker  of  malice 
and  envy  and  detraction  is  enthroned  in  their  hearts 
and  active  on  their  tongues.  Friendship,  true  friend- 
ship, can  only  be  found  to  bloom  in  the  soil  of  a  noble 
and  self-sacrificing  heart;  there  it  has  a  perennial 
summer,  a  never-ending  season  of  felicity  and  joy  to 
its  happy  possessor,  casting  a  thousand  rays  of  love 
and  hope  and  peace  to  all  around. 

No  one  can  be  happy  without  a  friend,  and  no  one 
can  know  what  friends  he  has  until  he  is  unhappy. 

It  has  been  observed  that  a  real  friend  is  somewhat 
like  a  ghost  or  apparition  ;  much  talked  of,  but  hardly 
ever  seen.  Though  this  may  not  be  exactly  true,  it 
must,  however,  be  confessed  that  a  friend  does  not 
appear  every  day,  and  that  he  who  in  reality  has 
found  one,  ought  to  value  the  boon,  and  be  thankful. 


414  FRIENDSHIP. 

Where  persons  are  united  by  the  bonds  of  genuine 
friendship,  there  is  nothing,  perhaps,  more  conducive 
to  felicity.  It  supports  and  strengthens  the  mind, 
alleviates  the  pain  of  life,  and  renders  the  present 
state,  at  least,  somewhat  comfortable.  "Sorrows," 
says  Lord  Bacon,  "by  being  communicated,  grow  less, 
and  joys  greater."  "And  indeed,"  observes  another, 
"sorrow,  like  a  stream,  loses  itself  in  many  channels; 
while  joy,  like  a  ray  of  the  sun,  reflects  with  a  greater 
ardor  and  quickness  when  it  rebounds  upon  a  man 
from  the  breast  of  his  friend." 

The  friendship  which  is  founded  upon  good  tastes 
and  congenial  habits,  apart  from  piety,  is  permitted 
by  the  benignity  of  Providence  to  embellish  a  world, 
which,  with  all  its  magnificence  and  beauty,  will 
shortly  pass  away ;  that  which  has  religion  for  its 
basis  will  ere  long  be  transplanted  in  order  to  adorn 
the  paradise  of  God. 

There  is  true  enjoyment  in  that  friendship  which 
has  its  source  in  the  innocence  and  uprightness  of  a 
true  heart.  Such  pleasures  do  greatly  sweeten  life, 
easing  it  from  many  a  bitter  burden.  A  sympathizing 
heart  finds  an  echo  in  sympathizing  bosoms  that  bring 
back  cheering  music  to  the  spirit  of  the  loveliest. 
Be  all  honor,  then,  to  true  friendship,  and  may  it 
gather  yet  more  fragant  blossoms  from  the  dew- 
bathed  meadows  of  social  intercourse,  to  spread  their 
aroma  along  the  toil-worn  road  of  life.  What  a 
blessing  it  is  to  have  a  friend  to  whom  one  can  speak 
fearlessly  upon  any  subject ;  with  whom  one's  deep- 
est thoughts  come  simply  and  safely.  O,  the  comfort, 


FRIENDSHIP.  415 

the  inexpressible  comfort,  of  feeling-  safe  with  a  per- 
son—  having  neither  to  weigh  the  thoughts  nor 
measure  the  words,  but  pouring  them  all  right  out, 
just  as  they  are,  chaff  and  grain  together,  certain  that 
a  faithful  hand  will  take  and  sift  them ;  keep  what  is 
worth  keeping,  and  then,  with  the  breath  of  kindness, 
blow  the  rest  away. 

If  any  form  an  intimacy  merely  for  what  they  can 
gain  by  it,  this  is  not  true  friendship  in  such  a  person. 
It  must  be  free  from  any  such  selfish  view,  and  only 
design  mutual  benefit  as  each  may  require.  Again,  it 
must  be  unreserved.  It  is  true  indeed  that  friends 
are  not  bound  to  reveal  to  each  other  all  their  family 
concerns,  but  they  should  be  ever  ready  to  disclose 
what  may  in  any  point  of  view  concern  each  other. 
Lastly,  it  is  benevolent.  Friends  must  study  to 
please  and  oblige  each  other  in  the  most  delicate, 
kind,  and  liberal  manner;  and  that  in  poverty  and 
trouble,  as  well  as  in  riches  or  prosperity.  The 
benevolence  of  friends  is  also  manifested  in  overlook- 
ing each  other's  faults,  and,  in  the  most  tender  man- 
ner, admonishing  each  other  when  they  do  amiss. 
Upon  the  whole,  the  purse,  the  heart,  and  the  house 
ought  to  be  open  to  a  friend,  and  in  no  case  can  we 
shut  out  either  of  them,  unless  upon  clear  proofs  of 
treachery,  immorality,  or  some  other  great  crime. 

The  first  law  of  friendship  is  sincerity ;  and  he  who 
violates  this  law,  will  soon  find  himself  destitute  of 
what  he  so  erringly  seeks  to  gain ;  for  the  deceitful 
heart  of  such  an  one  will  soon  betray  itself,  and  feel 
the  contempt  due  to  insincerity.  The  world  is  so  full 


416  COURTSHIP. 

of  selfishness,  that  true  friendship  is  seldom  found ; 
yet  it  is  often  sought  for  paltry  gain  by  the  base  and 
designing.  Behold  that  toiling  miser,  with  his  ill-got 
and  worthless  treasures ;  his  soul  is  never  moved  by 
the  hallowed  influence  of  the  sacred  boon  of  friend- 
ship, which  renews  again  on  earth  lost  Eden's  faded 
bloom,  and  flings  hope's  halcyon  halo  over  the  wastes 
of  life.  The  envious  man — he,  too,  seeks  to  gain 
the  appla.use  of  others  for  an  unholy  usage,  by  which 
he  may  usurp  a  seat  of  pre-eminence  for  himself. 
Self-love,  the  spring  of  motion,  acts  upon  the  soul. 
All  are  fond  of  praise,  and  many  are  dishonest  in  the 
use  of  means  to  obtain  it ;  hence  it  is  often  difficult  to 
distinguish  between  true  and  false  friendship. 


ALL  the  blessedness,  all  the  utility,  efficacy,  and 
happiness  of  the  married  state,  depend  upon  its 
truthfulness,  or  the  wisdom  of  the  union.  Marriage 
is  not  necessarily  a  blessing.  It  may  be  the  bitterest 
curse.  It  may  sting  like  an  adder  and  bite  like  a 
serpent.  Its  bower  is  as  often  made  of  thorns  as  of 
roses.  It  blasts  as  many  sunny  expectations  as  it 
realizes.  Every  improper  marriage  is  a  living  misery, 
an  undying  death,  Its  bonds  are  grated  bars  of 
frozen  iron.  It  is  a  spirit  prison,  cold  as  the  dungeon 
of  ruin.  An  illy-mated  human  pair  is  the  most  woe- 
ful picture  of  human  wretchedness  that  is  presented 


COURTSHIP. 


417 


in  the  book  of  life ;  and  yet,  such  pictures  are  plenty. 
Every  page  we  turn  gives  us  a  view  of  some  such 
living  bondage.  But  a  proper  marriage,  a  true  in- 
terior, soul-linked  union  is  a  living  picture  of  bless- 
edness, unrivaled  in  beauty.  A  true  marriage  is  the 
soul's  Eden.  It  is  the  portal  of  heaven.  It  is  the 
visiting-place  of  angels.  It  is  the  charm  indescrib- 
able of  a  spirit  in  captivation  with  all  imaginable 
beauty  and  loveliness.  It  is  a  constant  peace-offer- 
ing, that  procures  a  continual  Sabbath-day  sweetness, 
rich  as  the  quietude  of  reposing  angels.  It  is  not 
given  to  words  to  express  the  refinement  of  pleasure, 
the  delicacy  of  joy  and  the  abounding  fullness  of  sat- 
isfaction that  those  feel  whom  God  hath  joined  in  a 
high  marriage  of  spirit.  Such  a  union  is  the  highest 
school  of  virtue,  the  soul's  convent,  where  the  vestal 
fires  of  purity  are  kept  continually  burning. 

Marriage,  then,  should  be  made  a  study.  Every 
youth,  both  male  and  female,  should  so  consider  it. 
It  is  the  grand  social  institution  of  humanity.  Its 
laws  and  relations  are  of  momentous  importance  to 
the  race.  Shall  it  be  entered  blindly,  in  total  ignor- 
ance of  what  it  is,  what  its  conditions  of  happiness 
are? 

"Marriage  is  a  lottery,"  exclaim  so  many  men  and 
women  you  meet.  And  why  is  it  so  ?  Simply  because 
courtship  is  a  grand  scheme  of  deception.  Is  it  not 
so?  Who  courts  honestly?  Some,  it  is  true;  but 
few,  indeed.  Let  us  see,  it  is  conducted  something 
like  this :  A  young  man  and  woman  meet  at  a  party, 
ball,  school,  or  church.  The  young  man  sees  some- 
27 


418  COURTSHIP. 

thing  in  the  lady  that  attracts  his  attention ;  it  may 
be  her  pretty  face,  her  golden  curls,  her  flashing  eyes, 
her  delicate  hand  or  slender  waist,  or  snowy  neck,  or 
graceful  carriage,  or  more  likely,  the  plumage  in 
which  the  bird  shines.  He  looks  again,  and  then 
again,  and  without  one  particle  of  sense  or  reason 
for  it,  save  that  he  has  caught  the  fair  one's  eye,  his 
attraction  rises  into  enchantment.  He  seeks  an  in- 
troduction. A  little  parley  of  nonsense  ensues,  about 
fashion,  parties,  beaux  and  belles,  and  a  few  jokes 
pass  about  "invitations,"  "runaway  matches,"  etc.; 
then  an  appointment  for  another  meeting,  a  walk,  a 
visit  to  an  ice-cream  saloon,  a  neighbor,  or  something 
of  the  kind,  follows,  and  they  part,  both  determined, 
in  the  utmost  desperation,  to  catch  the  prize  if  pos- 
sible. They  dream,  and  sing,  and  make  verses  about 
each  other,  and  meditate  ways  and  means  to  appear 
captivating  at  the  next  meeting,  till  it  arrives,  when, 
lo !  they  meet,  all  wreathed  in  smiles  and  shining  in 
beautiful  things.  How  can  it  be  otherwise  than  that 
their  fascination  shall  become  absolute  adoration  now. 
The  afternoon  and  evening  are  spent  together,  each 
in  perfect  delight.  The  lovers  talk  about  flowers, 
and  stars,  and  poetry,  and  give  hints,  and  signs,  and 
tokens,  till  each  understands  the  other's  bewitchery. 

They  are  engaged  and  get  married. 

Married  life  now  comes  and  ushers  in  its  morning 
glory,  and  they  are  happy  as  a  happy  pair  can  well  be 
for  a  while.  But  "life  is  real,"  and  character  is  real, 
and  love  is  real.  When  life's  reality  comes  they  find 
things  in  each  other's  characters  that  perfectly  startle 


COURTSHIP. 

them.     Every  day  reveals  something  new  and  some- 
thing   unpleasant.     The    courtship    character   slowly 
fades  away,   and   with  it  the    courtship   love.     Now 
comes    disappointment,    sorrow,   regret.     They    find 
that  their  characters  are  entirely  dissimilar.     Married 
life  is  a  burden,  full  of  cares,  vexations,  and   disap- 
pointments.    But  they  must  make  the  best  of  it,  and 
BEAR  it  through.     Yes,  marriage  is  a  lottery.     They 
know  it.     Some  may  get  prizes,  and  some  may  not. 
No  one  knows  before  he  draws,  whether  he  will  draw 
a  blank  or  a  prize.     This  is  their  conclusion.     They 
did   not  court  in   the    right  way.      They  courted  by 
impulse,  and  not  by  judgment ;  it  was  a  process  of 
wooing,  and    not    of  discovery ;  it  was  an   effort  to 
please,  and  not  a  search  for  companionship ;  it  was 
done    with  excitement,   and   not   with    calmness  and 
deliberation ;    it   was    done    in    haste,    and    not  with 
cautious  prudence ;  it  was  a  vision  of  the  heart,  and 
not  a  solemn  reality ;  it  was  conducted  by  feeling,  and 
not  by   reason ;    it  was   so   managed  as  to  be  a  per- 
petual blandishment  of  pleasure,  the  most  intoxicat- 
ing and  delightful,  and   not  a  trying  ordeal  for  the 
enduring  realities  of  solid  and  stubborn  life ;  it  was  a 
perpetual  yielding  up  of  every  thing,  and  not  a  firm 
maintaining  of  every  thing  that  belongs  to  the  man  or 
woman.      In  almost  every  particular  it  was  false,  and 
hence   must  be   followed  by  evil  consequences.     All 
similar  courting  is  bad.     Courtship,  as  it  is  generally 
conducted,  is  a  game  at  "blind-man's-buff,"  only  that 
both    parties    are    blinded.     They    voluntarily    blind 
themselves,  and  then  blind  each  other ;  and  thus  they 


420  COURTSHIP. 

"go  it  blind,"  till  their  eyes  are  opened  in  marriage. 
It  is  necessary  for  the  youth  of  both  sexes  to  be  per- 
fectly honest  in  their  intercourse  with  each  other,  so 
as  to  exhibit  always  their  true  character  and  nature. 
Dishonesty  is,  perhaps,  a  greater  barrier  even  than 
ignorance  to  a  proper  understanding  of  the  real  char- 
acter of  those  with  whom  we  contemplate  matrimonial 
alliances.  Young  men  and  women  are  not  true  to 
themselves.  They  put  on  false  characters.  They 
assume  airs  not  their  own.  They  shine  in  borrowed 
plumes.  They  practice  every  species  of  deception 
for  the  concealment  of  their  real  characters.  They 
study  to  appear  better  than  they  are.  They  seek,  by 
the  adornments  of  dress  and  gems,  by  the  blandish- 
ments of  art  and  manner,  by  the  allurements  of  smiles 
and  honeyed  words,  by  the  fascination  of  pleasure 
and  scenes  of  excitement,  to  add  unreal,  unpossessed 
charms  to  their  persons  and  characters.  They  appear 
in  each  other's  society  to  be  the  embodiment  of  good- 
ness and  sweetness,  the  personification  of  lofty  prin- 
ciple and  holy  love,  when,  in  fact,  they  are  full  of 
human  weaknesses  and  frailties. 

The  object  of  courtship  is  the  choice  of  a  compan- 
ion. It  is  not  to  woo ;  it  is  not  to  charm  or  gratify, 
or  please,  simply  for  the  p'resent  pleasure ;  it  is  not 
for  the  present  sweets  of  such  an  intimate  and  con- 
fiding intercourse.  It  is  simply  and  plainly  for  the 
selection  of  a  life  companion ;  one  who  must  bear, 
suffer,  and  enjoy  life  with  us  in  all  its  frowns  and 
smiles,  joys  and  sorrows ;  one  who  can  walk  pleas- 
antly, willingly,  and  confidingly,  by  our  side,  through 


COURTSHIP. 

all  the  intricate  and  changing  vicissitudes  incident  to 
mortal  life.  Now,  how  shall  courtship  be  conducted 
so  as  to  make  marriage  a  certainty  and  not  a  lottery  ? 
This  is  the  question. 

Now  let  us  ask  what  is  to  be  sought  ?  You  answer, 
a  companion.  What  is  a  companion?  A  congenial 
spirit,  one  possessed  of  an  interior  constitution  of 
soul  similar  to  our  own,  of  similar  age,  opinions, 
tastes,  habits,  modes  of  thought,  and  feeling.  A 
congenial  spirit  is  one  who,  under  any  given  com- 
bination of  circumstances,  would  be  affected,  and  feel 
and  act  as  we  ourselves  would.  It  is  one  who  would 
enjoy  what  we  would  enjoy,  dislike  what  we  would 
dislike,  approve  what  we  would  approve,  and  con- 
demn what  we  would  condemn,  not  for  the  purpose 
of  agreeing  with  us,  but  of  his  or  her  own  free  will. 
This  is  a  companion ;  one  who  is  kindred  in  soul 
with  us ;  who  is  already  united  to  us  by  the  ties  of 
spiritual  harmony ;  which  union  it  is  the  object  of 
courtship  to  discover.  Courtship,  then,  is  a  voyage 
of  discovery ;  or  a  court  of  inquiry,  established  by 
mutual  consent  of  the  parties,  to  see  wherein  and  to 
what  extent  there  is  a  harmony  existing.  If  in  all 
these  they  honestly  and  inmostly  agree,  and  find  a 
deep  and  thrilling  pleasure  in  their  agreement,  find 
their  union  of  sentiment  to  give  a  charm  to  their 
social  intercourse ;  if  now  they  feel  that  their  hearts 
are  bound  as  well  as  their  sentiments  in  a  holy  unity, 
and  that  for  each  other  they  would  live,  and  labor, 
and  make  every  personal  sacrifice  with  gladness,  and 
that  without  each  other  they  know  not  how  to  live.,  it 


422  FLIRTING. 

is  their  privilege,  yes,  their  duty,  to  form  a  matrimonial 
alliance.  And  it  will  not  be  a  lottery.  They  know 
what  they  are  to  give  and  what  they  are  to  get.  They 
will  be  married  in  the  full  blaze  of  light  and  love,  and 
be  married  for  a  happy,  virtuous,  and  useful  union,  to 
bless  themselves  and  the  world  with  a  living  type  of 
heaven. 


THE  ostensible  object  of  courtship  is  the  choice  of 
a  companion.  For  no  other  object  should  any  inter- 
course having  the  appearance  of  courtship  be  permit- 
ted or  indulged  in.  It  is  a  species  of  high-handed 
fraud  upon  an  unsuspecting  heart,  worthy  of  the 
heaviest  penalty  of  public  opinion,  or  law.  The  affec- 
tions are  too  tender  and  sacred  to  be  trifled  with. 
He  who  does  it  is  a  wretch.  He  should  be  ranked 
among  thieves,  robbers,  villains,  and  murderers.  He 
who  steals  money  steals  trash ;  but  he  who  steals 
affections  without  a  return  of  similar  affections  steals 
that  which  is  dearer  than  life  and  more  precious  than 
wealth.  His  theft  is  a  robbery  of  the  heart. 

Flirting  is  a  horrid  outrage  upon  the  most  holy 
and  exalted  feelings  of  the  human  soul,  and  the  most 
sacred  and  important  relation  of  life.  It  is  a  vulgar- 
ism and  wickedness  to  be  compared  only  to  blas- 
phemy. It  had,  and  still  has,  its  origin  in  the  basest 
lust.  The  refined  soul  is  always  disgusted  with  it. 


FLIRTING.  423 

It  is  awfully  demoralizing  in  its  tendency,  and  low 
and  base  in  its  character.  It  is  true,  many  bandy 
their  low  jokes  upon  this' matter  in  thoughtlessness; 
but  if  they  would  take  one  moment's  sober  reflection 
upon  it,  they  would  see  the  impropriety  of  jesting 
about  the  most  delicate,  serious,  and  sacred  feelings 
and  relations  in  human  existence.  The  whole  ten- 
dency of  such  lightness  is  to  cause  the  marriage 
relation  to  be  lightly  esteemed,  and  courtship  to  be 
made  a  round  of  low  fun  and  frolic,  in  which  every 
species  of  deception  is  endeavored  to  be  played  off. 
Until  it  is  viewed  in  its  trvue  light,  in  that  sober  earn- 
estness which  the  subject  demands,  how  can  courtship 
be  anything  else  than  a  grand  game  of  hypocrisy, 
resulting  in  wickedness  and  misery  the  most  ruinous 
and  deplorable  ? 

There  is  much  trifling  courting  among  the  young 
in  some  portions  of  the  country  that  results  in  such 
calamitous  consequences  ;  carried  on  sometimes  when 
the  young  man  means  nothing  but  present  pleasure, 
and  sometimes  when  the  young  woman  has  no  other 
object  in  view.  Such  intercourse  is  confined  mostly 
to  young  men  and  women  before  they  are  of  age. 
It  is  a  crying  evil,  worthy  of  the  severest  censure. 

A  case  was  recently  tried  in  Rutland,  Vermont,  in. 
which  a  Miss  Munson  recovered  fourteen  hundred 
and  twenty-five  dollars  of  a  Mr.  Hastings  for  a 
breach  of  marriage  contract.  The  curiosity  of  the 
thing  is  this :  The  Vermont  judge  charged  the  jury 
that  no  explicit  promise  was  necessary  to  bind  the 
parties  to  a  marriage  contract,  but  that  long  continued 


424  FLIRTING. 

attentions  or  intimacy  with  a  female  was  as  good  evi- 
dence of  intended  matrimony  as  a  special  contract. 
The  principle  of  the  case  undoubtedly  is,  that  if 
Hastings  did  not  promise,  he  ought  to  have  done  so 
-the  law  holds  him  responsible  for  the  non-perfor- 
mance of  his  duty.  A  most  excellent  decision.  We 
think  if  there  were  more  such  cases  there  would  be 
less  flirting. 

One  of  the  meanest  things  a  young  man  can  do 
(and  it  is  not  at  all  of  uncommon  occurrence)  is  to 
monopolize  the  time  and  attention  of  a  young  girl  for 
a  year,  or  more,  without  any  definite  object,  and  to 
the  exclusion  of  other  gentlemen,  who,  supposing  him 
to  have  matrimonial  intentions,  absent  themselves 
from  her  society.  This  selfish  "dog-in-the-manger" 
way  of  proceeding  should  be  discountenanced  and 
forbidden  by  all  parents  and  guardians.  It  prevents 
the  reception  of  eligible  offers  of  marriage,  and  fast- 
ens upon  the  young  lady,  when  the  acquaintance  is 
finally  dissolved,  the  unenviable  and  unmerited  appel- 
lation of  "flirt."  Let  all  your  dealings  with  women, 
young  man,  be  frank,  honest  and  noble.  That  many 
whose  education  and  position  in  life  would  warrant 
our  looking  for  better  things  in  them,  are  culpably 
criminal  on  these  points,  is  no  excuse  for  your  short- 
comings. That  woman  is  often  injured,  or  wronged, 
through  her  holiest  feelings,  adds  but  a  blacker  dye  to 
your  meanness.  One  rule  is  always  safe:  Treat 
every  woman  you  meet  as  you  would  wish  another 
man  to  treat  your  innocent,  confiding  sister. 


BACHELORS.  425 


MARRIAGE  has  a  great  refining-  and  moralizing  ten- 
dency. Nearly  all  the  debauchery  and  crime  is  com- 
mitted by  unmarried  men,  or  by  those  who  have 
wives  equal  to  none,  at  least  to  them.  When  a  man 
marries  early,  and  uses  prudence  in  choosing  a  suit- 
able companion,  he  is  likely  to  lead  a  virtuous,  happy 
life.  But  in  an  unmarried  state,  all  alluring  vices 
have  a  tendency  to  draw  him  away.  We  notice  in 
_the  state  penitentiary  reports  that  nearly  all  the  crimi- 
nals are  bachelors.  The  more  married  men  you  have, 
the  fewer  crimes  there  will  be.  Marriage  renders  a 
man  more  virtuous  and  more  wise.  An  unmarried 
man  is  but  half  of  a  perfect  being,  and  it  requires  the 
other  half  to  make  things  right;  and  it  cannot  be 
expected  that  in  this  imperfect  state  he  can  keep 
straight  in  the  path  of  rectitude  any  more  than  a  boat 
with  one  oar  can  keep  a  straight  course.  In  nine 
cases  out  of  ten,  where  married  men  become  drunk- 
ards, or  where  they  commit  crimes  against  the  peace 
of  the  community,  the  foundation  of  these  acts  was 
laid  while  in  a  single  state,  or  where  the  wife  is,  as  is 
sometimes  the  case,  an  unsuitable  match.  Marriage 
changes  the  current  of  a  man's  feelings  and  gives  him 
a  centre  for  his  thoughts,  his  affections  and  his  acts. 

If  it  were  intended  for  man  to  be  single,  there 
would  be  no  harm  in  remaining  so ;  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  would  become  a  crime  if  any  persons  would 


426  BACHELORS. 

unite  and  live  as  wedded.  But,  since  this  is  not  the 
Divine  law,  it  is  a  sin  and  crime  if  healthful  men  and 
women  do  not  marry,  and  live  as  they  were  designed 
to  live. 

Marriage  is  a  school  and  exercise  of  virtue ;  and 
though  marriage  have  cares,  yet  single  life  has 
desires,  which  are  more  troublesome  and  more  dan- 
gerous, and  often  end  in  sin ;  while  the  cares  are  but 
exercises  of  piety ;  and,  therefore,  if  the  single  life 
have  more  privacy  of  devotion,  yet  marriage  has- 
more  variety  of  it,  and  is  an  exercise  of  more  graces. 
Marriage  is  the  proper  scene  of  piety  and  patience^ 
of  the  duty  of  parents  and  the  charity  of  relations ; 
here  kindness  is  spread  abroad,  and  love  is  united 
and  made  firm  as  a  centre.  Marriage  is  the  nursery 
of  heaven.  The  virgin  sends  prayers  to  God ;  but 
she  carries  but  one  soul  to  him ;  but  the  state  of  her 
marriage  fills  up  the  numbers  of  the  elect,  and  has  in. 
it  the  labor  of  love,  and  the  delicacies  of  friendship, 
the  blessings  of  society,  and  the  union  of  hearts  and 
hands.  It  has  in  it  more  safety  than  the  single  life ; 
it  has  more  care,  it  is  more  merry  and  more  sad ;  is 
fuller  of  sorrow  and  fuller  of  joys  ;  it  lies  under  more 
burdens,  but  is  supported  by  all  the  strength  of  love 
and  charity  which  makes  those  burdens  delightful. 
Marriage  is  the  mother  of  the  world,  and  preserves 
kingdoms,  and  fills  cities,  and  churches,  and  heaven 
itself,  and  is  that  state  of  good  things  to  which  God 
has  designed  the  present  constitution  of  the  world. 

We  advise  every  young  man  to  get  married.     The 
chances  are  better  by  fifty  per  cent,  all   through  life, 


BACHELORS  427 

in  every  respect.  There  is  no  tear  shed  for  the  old 
bachelor;  there  is  no  ready  hand  and  kind  heart  to 
cheer  him  in  his  loneliness  and  bereavement;  there  is 
none  in  whose  eyes  he  can  see  himself  reflected,  and 
from  whose  lips  he  can  receive  the  unfailing  assur- 
ances of  care  and  love.  He  may  be  courted  for  his. 
money  ;  he  may  eat  and  drink  and  revel ;  and  he  may 
sicken  and  die  in  a  hotel  or  a  garret,  with  plenty  of 
attendants  about  him,  like  so  many  cormorants  wait- 
ing for  their  prey ;  but  he  will  never  know  the  com- 
forts of  the  domestic  fireside. 

The  guardians  of  the  Holborn  Union  lately  adver- 
tised for  candidates  to  fill  the  situation  of  engineer 
at  the  work-house,  a  single  man,  a  wife  not  being 
allowed  to  reside  on  the  premises.  Twenty-one 
candidates  presented  themselves,  but  it  was  found 
that  as  to  testimonials,  character,  workmanship,  and 
appearance,  the  best  men  were  all  married  men.  The 
guardians  had  therefore  to  elect  a  married  man. 

A  man  who  avoids  matrimony  on  account  of  the 
cares  of  wedded  life,  cuts  himself  off  from  a  great 
blessing  for  fear  of  a  trifling  annoyance,  He  rivals 
the  wiseacre  who  secured  himself  against  corns  by 
having  his  legs  amputated.  Bachelor  brother,  there 
cannot,  by  any  possibility,  be  a  home  where  there  is 
no  wife.  To  talk  of  a  home  without  love,  we  might 
as  well  expect  to  find  an  American  fireside  in  one  oi 
the  pyramids  of  Egypt. 

There  is  a  world  of  wisdom  in  the  following: 
"Every  schoolboy  knows  that  a  kite  would  not  fly 
unless  it  had  a  string  tying  it  down.  It  is  just  so 


428  INFLUENCE  OF  MATRIMONY. 

in  life.  The  man  who  is  tied  down  by  half-a-dozen 
blooming  responsibilities  and  their  mother,  will  make 
a  higher  and  stronger  flight  than  the  bachelor,  who, 
having  nothing  to  keep  him  steady,  is  always  floun- 
dering in  the  mud.  If  you  want  to  ascend  in  the 
world,  tie  yourself  to  somebody." 


n 


MARRIAGE  is  an  occasion  on  which  none  refuse  to 
^sympathize.  Would  that  all  were  equally  able  and 
willing  to  understand  !  Would  that  all  could  know 
how,  from  the  first  flow  of  the  affections  till  they  are 
shed  abroad  in  all  their  plentitude,  the  purposes  of 
their  creation  become  fulfilled.  They  were  to  life 
like  a  sleeping  ocean  to  a  bright  but  barren  and  silent 
shore.  When  the  breeze  from  afar  awakened  it,  new 
lights  began  to  gleam,  and  echoes  to  be  heard ;  rich 
and  unthought-of  treasures  were  cast  up  from  the 
depths ;  the  barriers  of  individuality  were  broken 
•down ;  and  from  thenceforth,  they  who  chose  might 
"hear  the  mighty  waters  rolling  evermore."  Would 
that  all  could  know  how,  by  this  mighty  impulse,  new 
strength  is  given  to  every  power — how  the  intellect 
is  vivified  and  enlarged  —  how  the  spirit  becomes  bold 
to  explore  the  path  of  life,  and  clear-sighted  to  discern 
its  issues ! 

Marriage  is,  to  a  woman,  at  once  the  nappies1  and 


INFLUENCE    OF    MATRIMONY.  429 

saddest  event  of  her  life ;  it  is  the  promise  of  future 
bliss,  raised  on  the  death  of  all  present  enjoyment. 
She  quits  her  home,  her  parents,  her  companions,  her 
occupations,  her  amusements  —  her  everything  upon 
which  she  has  hitherto  depended  for  comfort — for 
affection,  for  kindness,  for  pleasure.  The  parents  by 
whose  advice  she  has  been  guided,  the  sister  to  whom 
she  has  dared  impart  every  embryo  thought  and  feel- 
ing, the  brother  who  has  played  with  her,  in  turns 
the  counselor  and  the  counseled,  and  the  younger 
children  to  whom  she  has  hitherto  been  the  mother 
and  the  playmate  —  all  are  to  be  forsaken  in  one  in- 
stant; every  former  tie  is  loosened,  the  spring  of 
every  hope  and  action  to  be  changed,  and  yet  she 
flies  with  joy  into  the  untrodden  paths  before  her. 
Buoyed  up  by  the  confidence  of  requited  love,  she 
bids,  a  fond  and  grateful  adieu  to  the  life  that  is 
past,  and  turns  with  excited  hopes  and  joyous  antici- 
pations of  the  happiness  to  come.  Then  woe  to 
the  man  who  can  blast  such  hopes — who  can,  coward- 
like,  break  the  illusions  that  have  won  her,  and 
destroy  the  confidence  which  his  love  inspired. 

There  is  no  one  thing  more  lovely  in  this  life,  more 
full  of  the  divinest  courage,  than  when  a  young 
maiden,  from  her  past  life,  from  her  happy  childhood, 
when  she  rambled  over  every  field  and  moor  around 
her  home ;  when  a  mother  anticipated  her  wants  and 
soothed  her  little  cares ;  when  brothers  and  sisters 
grew  from  merry  playmates  to  loving,  trustful  friends ; 
from  the  Christmas  gatherings  and  romps,  the  sum- 
mer festivals  in  bower  or  garden;  from  the  rooms 


430  INFLUENCE    OF    MATRIMONY. 

sanctified  by  the  death  of  relatives ;  from  the  holy 
and  secure  backgrounds  of  her  childhood,  and  girl- 
hood, and  maidenhood,  looks  out  into  a  dark  and 
unillumined  future,  away  from  all  that,  and  yet  unter- 
rified,  undaunted,  leans  her  fair  cheek  upon  her  lover's 
breast,  and  whispers,  "Dear  heart!  I  cannot  see,  but 
I  believe.  The  past  was  beautiful,  but  the  future  I 
can  trust  with  thee!" 

Wherever  women  plights  her  truth,  under  the  sky 
of  heaven,  at  the  domestic  hearth,  or  in  the  conse- 
crated aisles,  the  ground  is  holy,  the  spirit  of  the 
hour  is  sacramental.  That  it  is  thus  felt  even  by  the 
most  trivial  may  be  observed  at  the  marriage  cere- 
mony. Though  the  mirth  may  be  fast  and  furious 
before  or  after  the  irrevocable  formula  is  spoken,  yet 
at  that  point  of  time  there  is  a  shadow  on  the  most 
laughing  lip  —  a  moisture  in  the  firmest  eye.  Wed- 
lock, indissoluble,  except  by  an  act  of  God  —  a  sacra- 
ment whose  solemnity  reaches  to  eternity  —  will 
always  hold  its  rank  in  literature,  as  the  most  impres- 
sive fact  of  human  experience  in  dramatic  writing, 
whether  of  the  stage  or  closet,  the  play  or  novel.  It 
must  be  so.  If  goverment,  with  all  its  usurpations 
and  aggressions,  have  appropriated  history,  let  the 
less  ambitious  portions  of  our  literature  be  sacred  to 
the  affections — to  the  family,  based  upon  conjugal 
and  parental  love,  as  that  institution  is  the  state 
which  hitherto  in  the  world's  annals,  has  been  little 
else  than  the  sad  exponent  of  human  ambition. 

A  judicious  wife  is  always  snipping  off  from  her 
husband's  moral  nature  little  twigs  that  are  growing 


INFLUENCE    OF    MATRIMONY. 


in  the  wrong  direction.  She  keeps  him  in  shape  by 
continual  pruning-.  If  you  say  anything  silly,  she  will 
affectionately  tell  you  so.  If  you  declare  you  will  do 
some  absurd  thing,  she  will  find  means  of  preventing 
you  from  doing  it.  And  by  far  the  chief  part  of  all 
common  sense  there  is  in  this  world  belongs  unques- 
tionably to  woman.  The  wisest  things  which  a  man 
commonly  does  are  those  which  his  wife  counsels  him 
to  do.  A  wife  is  the  grand  wielder  of  the  moral 
pruning  knife.  When  you  see  a  man  appearing 
shabby,  hair  uncombed,  and  no  buttons  on  his  coat, 
nine  tim<es  out  of  ten  you  are  correct  in  concluding 
that  he  is  a  bachelor.  You  can  conclude  much  the 
same  when  you  see  a  man  profane,  or  speaking 
vulgarly  of  ladies.  We  would  add  that  young  men 
Avho  wish  to  appear  well  in  every  respect  should  get 
married.  It  has  been  well  said,  "A  man  unmarried 
is  but  half  a  man." 

It  was  thus  surely,  that  intellectual  beings  of  differ- 
ent sexes  were  intended  by  their  great  Creator  to  go 
through  the  world  together  ;  thus  united,  not  only  in 
hand  and  heart,  but  in  principles,  in  intellect,  in  views, 
and  in  dispositions  ;  both  pursuing  one  common  and 
noble  end  —  their  own  improvement  and  the  happi- 
ness of  those  around  them  —  by  the  different  means 
appropriate  to  their  situation  ;  mutually  correcting, 
sustaining  and  strengthening  each  other;  undegraded 
by  all  practices  of  tyranny  on  the  one  hand  and  of 
deceit  on  the  other;  each  finding  a  candid  but  severe 
judge  in  the  understanding,  and  a  warm  and  partial 
advocate  in  the  heart  of  his  and  her  companion; 


432  INFLUENCE    OF    MATRIMONY. 

secure  of  a  refuge  from  the  vexations,  the  follies,  the 
misunderstandings  and  the  evils  of  the  world  in  the 
arms  of  each  other,  and  in  the  inestimable  enjoyments, 
of  undisturbed  confidence  and  unrestrained  intimacy. 
The  law  that  binds  the  one  man  to  the  one  woman 
is  indelibly  written  by  nature,  that  wherever  it  is  vio- 
lated in  the  general  system,  the  human  race  is  found 
to  deteriorate  in  mind  and  form.  The  ennobling- 
influences  of  woman  cease ;  the  wife  is  a  companion 
—  a  hundred  wives  are  but  a  hundred  slaves.  Nor 
is  this  all,  unless  man  look  to  a  woman  as  a  treasure 
to  be  wooed  and  won  —  her  smile  the  charm  of  his 
existence  —  her  single  heart  the  range  of  his  desires 
—  that  which  deserves  the  name  of  love  cannot  exist; 
it  is  struck  out  of  the  system  of  society.  Now,  if 
there  be  a  passion  in  the  human  breast  which  most 
tends  to  lift  us  out  of  egotism  and  self,  which  most 
teaches  us  to  love  another,  which  purifies  and  warms 
the  whole  mortal  being,  it  is  love,  as  we  hold  it  and 
cherish  it.  For  even  when  the  fair  spring  of  youth 
has  passed,  and  when  the  active  life  of  man  is  em- 
ployed in  such  grave  pursuits  that  the  love  of  his 
early  years  seems  to  him  like  a  dream  of  romance, 
still  that  love,  having  once  lifted  him  out  of  egotism 
into  sympathy,  does  but  pass  into  new  forms  and 
development  —  it  has  locked  his  heart  to  charity  and 
benevolence  —  it  gives  a  smile  to  his  home  —  it  rises 
up  in  the  eyes  of  his  children  —  from  his  heart  it  cir- 
culates insensibly  on  to  all  the  laws  that  protect  the 
earth,  to  the  native  lands  which  spread  around  it. 
Thus  in  the  history  of  the  world  we  discover  that 


INFLUENCE    OF    MATRIMONY.  433 

wherever  love  is  created,  as  it  were,  and  sanctioned 
by  that  equality  between  the  sexes  which  the  perma- 
nent and  holy  union  of  one  heart  with  another  pro- 
claims ;  there,  too,  patriotism,  liberty  —  the  manly 
and  gentle  virtues  —  also  find  their  place;  and  wher- 
ever, on  the  contrary,  polygamy  is  practiced  and  love 
disappears  in  the  gross  satiety  of  the  senses,  there 
we  find  neither  respect  for  humanity  nor  reverence 
for  home,  nor  affection  for  the  natal  soil.  And  one 
reason  why  Greece  is  contrasted,  in  all  that  dignifies 
our  nature,  with  the  effeminate  and  dissolute  charac- 
ter of  the  East  which  it  overthrew,  is,  that  Greece 
was  the  earliest  civilized  country  in  which,  on  the 
borders  of  those  great  monarchies,  marriage  was  the 
sacred  tie  between  one  man  and  one  woman  —  and 
man  was  the  thoughtful  father  of  a  home,  not  the 
wanton  lord  of  a  seraglio. 

Nothing  delights  one  more  than  to  enter  the  neat 
little  tenement  of  the  young  couple,  who,  within  per- 
haps two  or  three  years,  without  any  resources  but 
their  own  knowledge  or  industry,  have  joined  heart 
and  hand,  and  engaged  to  share  together  the  respon- 
sibilities, duties,  interests,  trials  and  pleasures  of  life. 
The  industrious  wife  is  cheerfully  employed  with  her 
own  hands  in  domestic  duties,  putting  her  house  in 
order,  or  mending  her  husband's  clothes,  or  preparing 
the  dinner,  whilst,  perhaps,  the  little  darling  sits  prat- 
tling on  the  floor,  or  lies  sleeping  in  the  cradle,  and 
every  thing  seems  preparing  to  welcome  the  happiest 
of  husbands,  and  the  best  of  fathers,  when  he  shall 
corne  from  his  toil  to  enjoy  the  sweets  of  his  little 
28 


434  INFLUENCE    OF    MATRIMONY. 

paradise.  This  is  the  true  domestic  pleasure.  Health, 
contentment,  love,  abundance,  and  bright  prospects, 
are  all  here.  But  it  has  become  a  prevalent  sentiment 
that  a  man  must  acquire  his  fortune  before  he  marries, 
that  the  wife  must  have  no  sympathy  nor  share  with 
him  in  the  pursuit  of  it,  in  which  most  of  the  pleasure 
truly  consists ;  and  the  young  married  people  must  set 
out  with  as  large  and  expensive  an  establishment  as 
is  becoming  to  those  who  have  been  wedded  for 
twenty  years.  This  is  very  unhappy ;  it  fills  the  com- 
munity with  bachelors,  who  are  waiting  to  make  their 
fortunes,  endangering  virtue  and  promoting  vice;  it 
destroys  the  true  economy  and  design  of  the  domestic 
institution,  and  encourages  inefficiency  among  fe- 
males, who  are  expecting  to  be  taken  up  by  fortune 
and  passively  sustained,  without  any  care  or  concern 
on  their  part;  and  thus  many  a  wife  becomes,  as  a 
gentleman  once  remarked,  not  a  "help-meet,"  but  a 
"help-eat." 

The  Creator  found  that  it  was  not  good  for  man  to 
be  alone.  Therefore  he  made  woman  to  be  a  "help- 
meet for  him."  t  And  for  many  ages  history  has 
shown  that  "the  permanent  union  of  one  man  with 
one  woman  establishes  a  relation  of  affections  and 
interests  which  can  in  no  other  way  be  made  to  exist 
between  two  human  beings."  To  establish  this  rela- 
tion was  one  of  the  great  designs  of  God  in  giving 
the  rite  to  man ;  and  by  establishing  this  relation, 
marriage  becomes  to  him  an  aid  in  the  stern  conflict 
of  life.  This  it  is  in  a  theoretical  point  of  view. 
This,  too,  it  has  often  proved  in  practical  life.  Many 


INFLUENCE  OF  MATRIMONY.  435 

a  man  has  risen  from  obscurity  to  fame,  who,  in  the 
days  of  his  triumphant  victory,  has  freely  and  grate- 
fully acknowledged  that  to  the  sympathy  and  encour- 
agement of  his  wife,  during  the  long  and  weary 
years  of  toil,  he  owed  very  much  of  his  achieved 
success. 

But   while    young   men    say   they   cannot    marry 
because  the  girls  of  this  generation  are  too  extrava- 
gant, the  fault  by  no  means  is  altogether  with  the 
girls.     In  the  first  place,  young  men,  as  a  general 
thing,  admire   the  elegant  costumes  in  which  many 
ladies  appear,  and  do  not  hesitate  to  express  their 
admiration  to  those  who  are    more  plainly  dressed. 
And  what  is  the  natural  effect  of  this  ?     In  the  second 
place  many  young  rmen  are  too  proud  themselves  to 
commence  their  married  life  in    a  quiet,  economical 
way.     They  are  not  willing  to  marry  until  they  have 
money    enough    to    continue    all    their    own    private 
luxuries,    and    also    support   a   wife   in    style.      The 
difficulty  is    not   altogether  on    either   side ;     but   if 
both  men  and  women    would   be   true   to   the   best 
feelings  of  their  hearts,  and  careless  about  what  the 
world  would  say,  pure  and  happy  and  noble  homes 
would  be  more  abundant.     This  state    of  affairs    is 
very  unfortunate  for  both  parties.     It  leaves  woman 
without  a  home  and  without    protection  or  support. 
Woman  needs  the  strength  and  courage  of  man,  and 
he  needs  her  cheerfulness,  her  sympathy,  her  conso- 
lation.     Our  papers  tell    us,  that    in   a    single    New 
England  city,  there  are  nearly  thirty  thousand  young 
men,  already  engaged,  who  are  putting  off  marriage 


436  ADVANTAGE    OF    MATRIMONY. 

until  they  can  make  enough  to  support  their  wives. 
So  it  is  throughout  the  country.  Young  men  need 
the  restraining  and  elevating  influences  of  home. 
But  as  it  is  now  the  man  must  commence  business 
alone,  fight  his  own  battles  without  sympathy  or 
consolation,  win,  if  possible,  by  years  of  arduous  toil, 
a  competence ;  and  when  the  conflict  is  over,  the  toil 
is  past,  and  the  victory  is  won,  then  he  can  have  a 
wife  and  a  home.  A  man  to  succeed  well  in  life 
needs  the  influence  of  a  pure-minded  woman,  and  her 
sympathy  to  sweeten  the  cup  of  life. 


IF  you  are  for  pleasure,  marry;  if  you  prize  rosy 
health,  marry.  A  good  wife  is  heaven's  last  best  gift 
to  man  ;  his  angel  of  mercy ;  minister  of  graces  innu- 
merable ;  his  gem  of  many  virtues ;  his  casket  of 
jewels.  Her  voice  is  his  sweetest  music  ;  her  smiles 
his  brightest  days ;  her  kiss  the  guardian  of  innocence  ; 
her  arms  the  pale  of  his  safety,  the  balm  of  his  health, 
the  balsam  of  his  life  ;  «her  industry  his  surest  wealth  ; 
her  economy  his  safest  steward ;  her  lips  his  faithful 
counselor ;  her  bosom  the  softest  pillow  of  his  cares ; 
and  her  prayers  the  ablest  advocates  of  heaven's 
blessings  on  his  head. 

Woman's  influence  is  the  sheet  anchor  of  society ; 
and  this  influence  is  due  not  exclusively  to  the 


ADVANTAGE    OF    MATRIMONY.  437 

fascination  of  her  charms,  but  chiefly  to  the  strength, 
unformity,  and  consistency  of  her  virtues,  maintained 
under  so  many  sacrifices,  and  with  so  much  fortitude 
and  heroism.  Without  these  endowments  and  quali- 
fications, external  attractions  are  nothing;  but  with 
them,  their  power  is  irresistible. 

Beauty  and  virtue  are  the  crowning  attributes  be- 
stowed by  nature  upon  woman,  and  the  bounty  of 
heaven  more  than  compensates  for  the  injustice  of 
man.  Sometimes  we  hear  both  sexes  repine  at  their 
change,  relate  the  happiness  of  their  earlier  years, 
blame  the  folly  and  rashness  of  their  own  choice,  and 
warn  those  that  are  coming  into  the  world  against 
the  same  precipitance  and 'infatuation.  But  it  is  to 
be  remembered  that 'the  days  which  they  so  much 
wish  to  call  back,  are  the  days  not  only  of  celibacy 
but:  of  youth,  the  days  of  novelty  and  improvement, 
of  ardor  and  of  hope,  of  health  and  vigor  of  body, 
of  gayety  and  lightness  of  heart.  It  is  not  easy  to 
surround  life  with  any  circumstances  in  which  youth 
will  not  be  delightful ;  and  we  are  afraid  that  whether 
married  or  unmarried,  we  shall  find  the  vesture  o< 
terrestrial  existence  more  heavy  and  cumbrous  the 
longer  it  is  worn. 

Once  for  all,  there  is  no  misery  so  distressful  as  the 
desperate  agony  of  trying  to  keep  young  when  one 
cannot.  We  know  an  old  bachelor  who  has  attempted 
it.  His  affectation  of  youth,  like  all  affectations,  is  a 
melancholy  failure.  He  is  a  fast  young  man  of  fifty. 
He  plies  innocent  young  ladies  with  the  pretty  com- 
pliments and  soft  nothings  in  vogue  when  he  was  a 


438  ADVANTAGE    OF    MATRIMONY. 

spoony  youth  of  twenty.  The  fashion  of  talking  to 
young-  ladies  has  changed  within  thirty  years,  you 
know,  and  this  aged  boy's  soft  nothings  seem  more 
out  of  date  than  a  two-year-old  bonnet.  When  you 
see  his  old-fashioned  young  antics — his  galvanic 
gallantry,  so  to  speak,  and  hear  the  speeches  he 
makes  to  girls  in  their  teens,  when  he  ought  to  be 
talking  to  them  like  a  father  —  you  involuntarily  call 
him  an  old  idiot,  and  long  to  remind  him  of  that  quaint 
rebuke  of  grand  old  John:  "Thou  talkest  like  one 
upon  whose  head  the  shell  is  to  this  very  day."  That 
is  how  he  seems.  He  is  old  enough  to  have  been 
almost  full-fledged  before  you  were  born,  and  here  he 
is  trying  to  make  believe  that  he  is  still  in  the  days 
of  his  gosling-green,  with  the  shell  sticking  on  his 
head  to  this  day !  It  is  a  melancholy  absurdity. 
One  cannot  be  young  unless  one  is  young.  Only 
once  is  it  given  to  us  to  be  untried  and  soft,  and 
gushing  and  superlative,  and  when  the  time  comes  for 
it  all  to  go,  no  sort  of  effort  can  hold  back  the  .fleet- 
ing days. 

"I  wish  that  I  had  married  thirty  years  ago,"  solil- 
oquized an  old  bachelor.  "Oh!  I  wish  a  wife  and 
half  a  score  of  children  would  start  up  around  me, 
and  bring  along  with  them  all  that  affection  which  we 
should  have  had  for  each  other  by  being  early 
acquainted.  But  as  it  is,  in  my  present  state,  there 
is  not  a  person  in  the  world  I  care  a  straw  for ;  and 
the  world  is  pretty  even  with  me,  for  I  don't  believe 
there  is  a  person  in  it  who  cares  a  straw  for  me." 


YOUNG    MF.N    AN^    MAKKIAt.^. 


f  1  cmtto; 

5*9 

A  YOUNG  man  meets  a  pretty  face  in  the  ball-room, 
falls  in  love  with  it,  courts  it,  marries  it,  goes  to 
housekeeping  with  it,  and  boasts  of  having  a  home 
and  a  wife  to  grace  it.  The  chances  are,  nine  to  ten, 
that  he  has  neither.  He  has  been  "  taken  in  and  done 
for ! "  Her  pretty  face  gets  to  be  an  old  story,  or 
becomes  faded,  or  freckled,  or  fretted,  and  as  the  face 
was  all  he  wanted,  all  he  paid  attention  to,  all  he  sat 
up  with,  all  he  bargained  for,  all  he  swore  to  love, 
honor  and  protect,  he  gets  sick  of  his  trade,  knows 
of  a  dozen  faces  he  likes  better,  gives  up  staying  at 
home  evenings,  consoles  himself  with  cigars,  oysters 
and  politics,  and  looks  upon  his  home  as  a  very 
indifferent  boarding-house. 

Another  young  man  becomes  enamored  of  a  "for- 
tune." He  waits  upon  it  to  parties,  dances  a  polka 
with  it,  exchanges  billets  doux  with  it,  pops  the 
question  to  it,  gets  accepted  by  it,  takes  it  to  the  par- 
son, weds  it,  calls  it  "wife,"  carries  it  home,  sets  up 
an  establishment  with  it,  introduces  it  to  his  friends, 
and  says  he,  too,  is  married  and  has  got  a  home.  It 
is  false.  He  is  not  married ;  he  has  no  home.  And 
he  soon  finds  it- out.  \  He  is  in  the  wrong  box;  but  it 
is  too  late  to  get  out  of  it ;  he  might  as  well  hope  to 
get  out  of  his  coffin.  His  friends  congratulate  him, 
and  he  has  to  grin  and  bear  it. 

If  a  young  man   would  escape  these    sad   conse- 


440          YOUNG  MEN  AND  MARRIAGE. 

quences,  let  him  shun  the  rocks  upon  which  so  many 
have  made  shipwreck.  Let  him  disregard,  totally, 
all  considerations  of  wealth,  beauty,  external  accom- 
plishments, fashion,  connections  in  society,  and  every 
other  mere  selfish  and  worldly  end,  and  look  into  the 
mind  and  heart  of  the  woman  he  thinks  of  marrying. 
If  he  cannot  love  her  for  herself  alone  —  that  is,  for 
all  that  goes  to  make  up  her  character  as  a  woman  — 
let  him  disregard  every  external  inducement,  and  shun 
a  marriage  with  her  as  the  greatest  evil  to  which  he 
could  be  subjected.  And  if  he  have  in  him  a  spark 
of  virtuous  feeling  —  if  he  have  one  unselfish  and 
generous  emotion  —  he  will  shun  such  a  marriage  for 
the  woman's  sake  also,  for  it  would  be  sacrificing  her 
happiness  as  well  as  his  own. 

From  what  is  here  set  forth  every  young  man  can 
see  how  vitally  important  it  is  for  him  to  make  his 
choice  in  marriage  from  a  right  end.  Wealth  cannot 
bring  happiness,  and  is  ever  in  danger  of  taking  to 
itself  wings ;  beauty  cannot  last  long  where  there  is 
grief  at  the  heart;  and  distinguished  connections  are 
a  very  poor  substitute  for  the  pure  love  of  a  true 
woman's  heart. 

All  that  has  been  said  refers  to  the  ends  which 
should  govern  in  the  choice  of  a  wife.  Directions  as 
to  the  choice  itself  can  only  be  of  a  general  character, 
for  the  circumstances  surrounding  each  one,  and  the 
particular  circles  into  which  he  is  thrown,  will  have 
specific  influences,  which  will  bias  the  judgment  either 
one  way  or  another.  One  good  rule  it  will,  however, 
be  well  to  observe,  and  that  is,  to  be  on  your  guard 


YOUNG    MEN    AND    MARRIAGE. 


against  those  young  ladies  who  seek  evidently  to 
attract  your  attention.  It  is  unfeminine  and  proves 
that  there  is  something  wanting  to  make  up  the 
perfect  woman.  In  retiring  modesty  you  will  be  far 
more  apt  to  find  the  virtues  after  which  you  are 
seeking.  A  brilliant  belle  may  make  a  loving,  faithful 
wife  and  mother;  but  the  chances  are  somewhat 
against  her,  and  a  prudent  young  man  will  satisfy 
himself  well  by  a  close  observation  of  her  in  private 
and  domestic  life  before  he  makes  up  his  mind  to 
offer  her  his  hand. 

There  are  many,  too  many,  finely  educated  young 
ladies  who  can  charm  you  with  their  brilliance  of 
intellect,  their  attainments  in  science  and  literature, 
or  their  music,  who  know  not  the  rudiments  of  how 
to  make  a  home  comfortable  and  inviting.  Some  will 
frankly  confess  it,  with  sorrow,  others  boast  of  this 
ignorance  as  something  to  be  proud  of.  How  many 
such  women  marry  and  make  an  utter  failure  of  life. 
They  make  a  wreck  of  their  husband's  happiness,  of 
the  home  he  has  doted  on,  of  his  fortune,  and,  alas, 
too  often  of  his  character,  and  his  soul's  interest. 
You  see  them  abroad,  and  are  delighted  to  have 
made  their  acquaintance,  but  you  find  their  homes 
slipshod  homes,  sadly  contrasting  with  the  really 
cultivated  manners  and  mind  which  so  attracted  you. 

When  you  see  the  avaricious  and  crafty  taking  com- 
panions to  themselves  without  any  inquiry  but  after 
farms  and  money,  or  the  giddy  and  thoughtless 
unitino  themselves  for  life  to  those  whom  they  have 

c> 

only  seen  by  the  light  of  gas  or  oil  ;  when  parents 


442          YOUNG  MEN  AND  MARRIAGE. 

make  matches  for  children  without  inquiring  after 
their  consent;  when  some  marry  for  heirs  to  disap- 
point their  brothers,  and  others  throw  themselves 
into  the  arms  of  those  whom  they  do  not  love, 
because  they  found  themselves  rejected  where  they 
were  more  solicitous  to  please ;  when  some  marry 
because  their  servants  cheat  them ;  some  because 
they  squander  their  own  money ;  some  because  their 
houses  are  pestered  with  company ;  some  because 
they  will  live  like  other  people ;  and  some  because 
they  are  sick  of  themselves,  we  are  not  so  much 
inclined  to  wonder  that  marriage  is  sometimes 
unhappy,  as  that  it  appears  so  little  loaded  with 
calamity,  and  cannot  but  conclude  that  society  has 
something  in  itself  eminently  agreeable  to  human 
nature,  when  we  find  its  pleasures  so  great  that  even 
the  ill-choice  of  a  companion  can  hardly  overbalance 
them.  Those,  therefore,  of  the  above  description 
who  should  rail  against  matrimony  should  be  informed 
that  they  are  neither  to  wonder  nor  repine,  that  a 
contract  begun  on  such  principles  has  ended  in  dis- 
appointment. A  young  man  and  a  dear  friend  once 
said,  "I  am  going  to  take  her  for  better  or  for  worse." 
The  remark  ran  over  me  like  a  chill  breath  of  winter. 
I  shuddered  at  the  thought.  "For  better  or  for 
worse."  All  in  doubt.  Going  to  marry,  yet  not  sure 
he  was  right.  The  lady  he  spoke  of  was  a  noble 
young  woman,  intellectual,  cultivated,  pious,  accus- 
tomed to  his  sphere  of  life.  They  were  going  to 
marry  in  uncertainty.  Both  were  of  fine  families ; 
both  excellent  young  people.  To  the  world  it  looked 


YOUNG  MEN  AND  MARRIAGE.          443 

like  a  desirable  match.  To  them  it  was  going. to  be 
"for  better  or  for  worse."  They  married.  The 
woman  stayed  in  his  home  one  year  and  left  it, 
declaring  he  was  a  good  man  and  a  faultless  husband, 
but  not  after  her  heart.  She  stayed  away  one  year 
and  came  back;  lived  with  him  one  year  more  and 
died.  Sad  tale.  It  proved  for  the  worse,  and  all 
because  they  did  not  know  each  other ;  if  they  had 
they  would  not  have  married. 

Marriage  is  the  seal  of  man's  earthly  weal  or  woe. 
No  event  is  to  be  compared  with  this  for.  its  interest 
and  its  immeasurable  results.  Why  are  so  many 
unhappy  in  this  union,  never  indeed  truly  married? 
Because  they  rush  into  its  s*acred  temple,  either  de- 
luded or  unsanctified  by  God  and  good  principles. 
They  sin  in  haste,  and  are  left  to  repent  at  leisure. 
Custom,  convenience,  proximity,  passion,  vicious 
novels,  silly  companions,  intoxicate  the  brain ;  and 
that  step  is  taken  without  one  serious  thought,  which 
death  only  can  retrieve. 

Robert  Southey  says:  "A  man  may  be  cheerful 
and  contented  in  celibacy,  but  I  do  not  think  he'  can 
ever  be  happy;  it  is  an  unnatural  state,  and  the  best 
feelings  of  his  nature  are  never  called  into  action 
The  risks  of  marriage  are  for  the  greater  part  on  the 
woman's  side.  Women  have  so  little  the  power  of 
choice  that  it  is  not  perhaps  fair  to  say  that  they  are 
less  likely  to  choose  well  than  we  are  ;  but  I  am  per- 
suaded that  they  are  more  frequently  deceived  in  the 
attachments  they  form,  and  their  opinions  concerning 
men  are  less  accurate  than  men's  opinion  of  their  sex. 


444          YOUNG  MEN  AND  MARRIAGE. 

Now,  if  a  lady  were  to  reproach  me  for  having  said 
this,  I  should  only  reply  that  it  was  another  mode  of 
saying-  there  are  more  good  wives  in  the  world  than 
there  are  good  husbands,  which  I  verily  believe.  I 
know  of  nothing  which  a  good  and  sensible  man  is 
so  certain  to  find,  if  he  looks  for  it,  as  a  good  wife." 

Who  marries  for  love  takes  a  wife ;  who  marries  for 
the  sake  of  convenience  takes  a  mistress ;  who  mar- 
ries for  consideration  takes  a  lady.  You  are  loved 
by  your  wife,  regarded  by  your  mistress,  tolerated 
by  your  lady.  You  have  a  wife  for  yourself,  a  mis- 
tress for  your  house  and  its  friends,  and  a  lady  for  the 
world.  Your  wife  will  agree  with  you,  your  mistress 
will  accommodate  you,  and  your  lady  will  manage  you. 
Your  wife  will  take  care  of  your  household,  your  mis- 
tress of  your  house,  your  lady  of  appearance.  If 
you  are  sick,  your  wife  will  nurse  you,  your  mistress 
will  visit  you,  and  your  lady  will  inquire  after  your 
health.  You  take  a  walk  with  your  wife,  a  ride  with 
your  mistress,  and  join  partners  with  your  lady. 
Your  wife  will  share  your  grief,  your  mistress  your 
money,  and  your  lady  your  debts.  If  you  are  dead, 
your  wife  will  shed  tears,  your  mistress  lament,  and 
your  lady  wear  mourning.  A  year  after  death  mar- 
ries again  your  wife,  in  six  months  your  mistress,  and 
in  six  weeks  or  sooner,  when  mourning  is  over,  your 
lady. 

Men  and  women,  before  marriage,  are  as  figures 
and  ciphers.  The  woman  is  the  cipher  and  counts 
for  nothing  until  she  gets  the  figure  of  a  husband 
beside  her,  when  she  becomes  of  importance  herself 


YOUNG  MEN  AND  MARRIAGE.          445 

and  adds  tenfold  to  the  sum  of  his.  But  this,  it  must 
be  observed,  occurs  only  when  she  gets  and  remains 
on  the  right  side  of  him,  for  when  she  shifts  from 
this  position,  he  returns  to  his  lesser  estate,  and  she 
to  her  original  insignificance. 

Marriage  offers  the  most  effective  opportunities  for 
spoiling  the  life  of  another.  Nobody  can  debase, 
harass  and  ruin  a' woman  so  fatally  as  her  own  hus- 

j 

band,  and  nobody  can  do  a  tithe  so  much  to  chill  a 
man's  aspirations,  to  paralyze  his  energies,  as  his 
wife.  A  man  is  never  irretrievably  ruined  in  his 
prospects  uutil  he  marries  a  bad  woman.  The  Bible 
tells  us  that,  as  the  climbing  a  sandy  way  is  to  the 
feet  of  the  aged,  so  is  a  wife  full  of  words  to  a  quiet 
man.  A  cheerful  wife  is  a  rainbow  in  the  sky  when 
her  husband's  mind  is  tossed  on  the  storms  of  anxiety 
and  care.  A  good  wife  is  the  greatest  earthly  bless- 
ing. A  man  is  what  his  wife  makes  him.  Make 

£> 

marriage  a  matter  of  moral  judgment.  Marry  in 
your  own  religion.  Marry  into  different  blood  and 
temperament  from  your  own.  Marry  into  a  family 
which  you  have  long  known. 

Husbands  and  wives  of  different  religious  persua- 
sions do  not  generally  live  happily.  When  the 
spiritual  influences  are  antagonistic,  the  conjugal 
union  is  not  complete,  for  it  lacks  the  unity  essential 
to  the  fulfillment  of  serious  obligations,  and  there  is 
an  entire  absence  of  that  sound  and  reciprocated 
confidence  —  that  mutual  faith,  which,  although  their 
roots  be  in  the  earth,  have  their  branches  in  the  sky 
of  affection.  The  subject  is  painful,  and  however  we 


446  YOUNG    LADIES    AND    MATRIMONY. 

may  wound  the  susceptibilities  of  apparently  fond 
lovers  —  we  say  apparently  advisedly,  for  there  can 
be  no  real  love  where  there  is  "no  silver  cord  to  bind 
it"  —we  unhesitatingly  express  the  opinion  that 
marriages  between  persons  who  do  not  tread  in  the 
same  religious  path  are  wholly  unadvisable  —  nay, 
wrong  —  for  they  tend  to  invite  a  future  teeming 
shadows,  clouds,  and  darkness. 


MANY  a  young  lady  has  had  an  advantageous  offei 
of  marriage.  The  man  who  made  it  is  of  exemplary 
character ;  he  is  well  off  in  this  world's  goods,  is 
engaged  in  a  profitable  and  reputable  business,  and 
there  is  no  particular  reason  why  she  should  not 
accept  his  proposal ;  but  she  does  not  love  him.  In 
our  judgment,  that  is  reason  enough.  We  do  not 
believe  in  marriage  without  love.  Respect  is  all  very 
well,  and  that  one  should  have  any  way ;  but  it  does 
not  take  the  place  of  affection.  It  is  said  that  in  such 
matches  love  comes  after  marriage.  We  have  no 
doubt  that  it  often  does.  But  we  think  love  should 
precede  as  well  as  follow  matrimony.  It  is  always 
liable  tovhappen  to  one  who  has  never  loved.  But 
suppose,  subsequent  to  marriage,  it  is  awakened  for 
the  first  time  in  a  wife,  and  the  object  happens  to  be 


YOUNG    LADIES    AND    MATRIMONY.  447 


-what  then?  This  is  a 
contingency  not  pleasant  to  contemplate.  No :  if 
you  do  not  love,  do  not  marry.  Singleness  is  bless- 
edness compared  to  marriage  without  affection.  The 
connubial  yoke  sits  easy  on  the  shoulders  of  love: 
but  it  is  most  galling  without  this  one  and  only 
sufficient  support. 

We  celebrate  the  wedding,  and  make  merry  over 
the  honeymoon.  The  poet  paints  the  beauties  and 
blushes  of  the  blooming  bride ;  and  the  bark  of  mat- 
rimony, with  its  freight  of  untested  love,  is  launched 
on  the  uncertain  ocean  of  experiment,  amid  kind 
wishes  and  rejoicings.  But  on  that  precarious  sea 
are  many  storms,  and  even  the  calm  has  its  perils ; 
and  only  when  the  bark  has  weathered  these,  and 
landed  its  cargo  in  the  haven  of  domestic  peace,  can 
we  pronounce  the  voyage  prosperous,  and  con- 
gratulate the  adventurer  on  his  merited  and  enviable 
reward. 

The  best  women  have  an  instinctive  wish  to  marry 
a  man  superior  to  themselves  in  some  way  or  other ; 
for  their  h"»nor  is  in  their  husbands,  and  their  status 
in  society  is  determined  by  his.  A  woman  who,  for 
a  passing  fancy,  marries  a  man  in  any  way  her 
inferior,  wrongs  herself,  her  family,  and  her  whole 
life;  for  the  "grossness  of  his  nature"  will  most 
probably  drag  her  to  his  level.  Now  and  then  a 
woman  of  great  force  of  character  may  lift  her 
husband  upward,  but  she  accepts  such  a  labor  at  the 
peril  of  her  own  higher  life.  Should  she  find  it 
equally  impossible  to  lift  him  to  her  level  or  sink  to 


448  YOUNG    LADIES    AND    MATRIMONY. 

V 

his,  what  remains?  Life-long  regrets,  bitter  shame 
and  self-reproach,  or  a  forcible  setting  of  herself  free. 
But  the  latter,  like  all  severe  remedies,  carries  des- 
peration, instead  of  hope,  with  it.  Never  can  she 
quite  regain  her  maiden  place ;  an  aura  of  a  doubtful 
kind  fetters  and  influences  her  in  every  effort  or 
relation  of  her  future  life. 

A  young  woman  is  smitten  with  a  pair  of  whiskers. 
Curled  hair  never  before  had  such  charms.  She  sets 
her  cap  for  them  ;  they  take.  The  delighted  whiskers 
make  an  offer,  proffering  themselves  both  in  exchange 
for  one  heart.  Our  dear  miss  is  overcome  with 
magnanimity,  closes  the  bargain,  carries  home  the 
prize,  shows  it  to  pa  and  ma,  calls  herself  engaged  to 
it,  thinks  there  never  was  such  a  pair  of  whiskers 
before,  and  in  a  few  weeks  the  miss  and  the  pair  of 
whiskers  are  married.  Married?  Yes,  the  world 
calls  it  so,  and  so  we  will.  What  is  the  result?  A 
short  honeymoon,  and  then  the  discovery  that  they 

are  as  unlike  as  chalk  and  cheese,  and  not  to  be  made 

i 

one,  though  all  the  priests  in  Christendom  pronounced 
them  so. 

Young 'ladies  are  not  to  rely  upon  common  report, 
nor  the  opinion  of  friends  or  fashionable  acquaintan- 
ces, but  upon  personal  knowledge  of  the  individual's 
life  and  character.  How  can  another  know  what  you 
want  in  a  companion  ?  You  alone  know  your  own 
heart.  If  you  do  not  know  it  you  are  not  fit  to  be 
married.  No  one  else  can  tell  what  fills  you  with 
pleasing  and  grateful  emotions.  You  only  know 
when  the  spring  of  true  affection  is  touched  by  the 


YOUNG    LADIES    AND    MATRIMONY.  449 

hand  of  a  congenial  spirit.  It  is  for  you  to  know  who 
asks  your  hand,  who  has  your  heart,  who  links  his 
life  with  yours.  If  you  know  the  man  who  can  make 
true  answer  to  your  soul's  true  love,  whose  soul  is  all 
kindred  with  yours,  whose  life  answers  to  your  ideal 
of  manly  demeanor,  you  know  who  would  make  you 
a  good  husband.  But  if  you  only  fancy  that  he  is 
right,  or  guess,  or  believe,  or  hope,  from  a  little  social 
interchange  of  words  and  looks,  you  have  but  a 
poor  foundation  on  which  to  build  hopes  of  future 
happiness.  Do  not,  as  you  value  life  and  its  com- 
forts, marry  a  man  who  is  naturally  cruel.  If  he  will 
wantonly  torture  a  poor  dumb  dog,  a  cat,  or  even  a 
snake,  fly  from  him  as  you  would  from  the  cholera. 
We  would  sooner  see  our  daughter  dying  of  cholera, 
than  married  to  a  cruel  hearted  man.  If  his  nature 
delights  in  torture,  he  will  not  spare  his  wife,  or  his 
helpless  children,  When  we  see  a  man  practicing 
cruelty  on  any  poor,  helpless  creature,  or  beating  a 
fractious  horse  unmercifully,  we  write  over  against 
his  name,  "devil,"  and  shun  him  accordingly. 

Do  not  marry  a  fop.  There  is  in  such  a  character 
nothing  of  true  dignity;  nothing  that  commands 
respect,  or  insures  even  a  decent  standing  in  the  com- 
munity. There  is  a  mark  upon  him,  an  affected  ele- 
gance of  manner,  a  studied  particularity  of  dress, 
and  usually  a  singular  inanity  of  mind,  by  which  he  is 
known  in  every  circle  in  which  he  moves.  His  very 
attitude  and  gait  tells  the  stranger  who  he  is,  though 
he  only  passes  him  silently  on  the  street.  To  unite 
your  destiny  with  such  a  man,  we  hardly  need  say, 
29 


450  YOUNG    LADIES    AND    MATRIMONY. 

would  be  to  impress  the  seal  of  disgrace  upon  your 
character,  and  the  seal  of  wretchedness  upon  your 
doom. 

Look  with  disdain  on  what  are  called,  significantly, 
our  "fast  young  men  ;"  those  who  frequent  the  saloon 
and  bar-room,  to  drench  themselves  in  "fire-water;" 
who,  filled  with  conceit,  talk  large,  and  use  big-sound- 
ing oaths ;  whose  highest  ambition  is  to  drive  a  fast 
horse,  to  swear  roundly,  and  wear  dashy  garments ; 
who  affect  to  look  with  contempt  on  their  elders  and 
equals  asv  they  toil  in  some  honest  occupation,  and 
who  regard  labor  as  a  badge  of  disgrace. 

A  habit  of  industry  once  formed  is  not  likely  to  be 
ever  lost.  Place  the  individual  in  whatever  circum- 
stances you  will,  and  he  will  not  be  satisfied  unless 
he  can  be  active.  Moreover,  it  will  impart  to  his 
character  an  energy  and  efficiency,  and  we  may  add, 
dignity,  which  can  hardly  fail  to  render  him  an  object 
of  respect.  We  should  regard  your  prospects  for 
life  far  better  if  you  should  marry  a  man  of  very 
limited  property,  or  even  no  property  at  all,  with  an 
honest  vocation  and  a  habit  of  industry,  than  if  we 
were  to  see  you  united  to  one  of  extensive  wealth, 
who  had  never  been  taught  to  exercise  his  own 
powers,  and  had  sunk  into  the  sensual  gratification  of 
himself. 

Perhaps  no  folly  holds  so  strong  a  place  in  a  woman's 
mind  as  that  she  can  reclaim  the  one  she  loves  —  if 
he  is  a  little  fast,  after  marriage,  he  will  settle  down 
into  a  just  and  sensible  husband.  History,  too,  often 
repeats  the  failure  of  such  beliefs ;  it  is  delusive,  a 


YOUNG    LADIES    AND    MATRIMONY.  45 j 

snare,  and  the  young-  woman,  after  the  marriage 
vows  have  been  recorded,  awakes  to  find  the- will  of 
her  husband  stronger  than  her  own,  too  selfish  for 
any  control,  and  her  life  begins  its  long  agony  of 
misery.  We  say  to  young  maidens,  be  warned  in 
time ;  can  you  reclaim  those  who  have  not  the  power 
'  to  reclaim  themselves?  Can  you  throw  away  your 
pure  life  and  womanly  sympathies  upon  wretches, 
whose  moral  principles  cannot  stand  the  slightest 
examination,  and  whose  proffered  love  is  but  a  tem- 
porary symptom  of  their  changing  heartlessness? 
Beware,  beware!  the  deepest  rascal  has  the  finest 
clothes  and  the  smoothest  tongue.  Yet  in  spite  of 
all  the  wretchedness  of  drunkards'  wives,  young 
women  are  continually  willing  to  marry  men  who  are 
in.  the  habit  of  indulging  in  the  social  glass  !  Ladies 
often  refuse  the  marriage  offers  of  young  men  because 
they  are  too  poor,  or  of  too  humble  a  family,  or  too 
plain  in  person  or  manners.  But  only  now  and  then 
one  has  good  sense  enough  to  refuse'  to  unite  herself 
with  a  man  who  will  not  pledge  himself  to  total 
abstinence.  A  rich  and  fashionable  young  man  has 
commonly  no  trouble  to  get  a  wife,  even  though  he  is 
hardly  sober  long  enough  to  pronounce  the  marriage 
vow.  But  a  teetotaler  in  coarse  raiment  might  be 
snubbed  as  a  vulgar  fellow  who  has  never  seen  society. 
Ladies,  before  you  begin  to  scold  at  us  for  this  impious 
thing,  just  look  around  and  see  if  this  is  not  true.  A 
young  woman  who  marries  a  man  who  is  addicted  to 
drinking  liquors  is  attaching  to  herself  but  a  dead 
weight  that  will  drag  her  down  with  himself  below 


452  YOUNG    LADIES    AND    MATRIMONY. 

the  level  of  the  brute.  Young  ladies,  as  life  is 
precious  to  you,  and  since  you  value  it  highly,  take 
no  such  chances.  Rather  than  marry  a  man  whom 
you  know  to  drink,  only  now  and  then,  for  his  friend's 
sake,  wait  a  while  longer  ;  there  are  many  young  men 
of  noble  character  who  are  on  the  lookout  for  a  good 
young  lady,  and  your  chances  are  not  to  be  despaired 
of.  To  think  of  redeeming  a  young  man  from  intem- 
perance is  simply  folly.  To  him  your  efforts  to  keep 
him  from  the  cup  would  be  like  damming  a  river  with 
a  feather,  or  like  stopping  a  hurricane  with  a  tin 
whistle. 

During  the  period  that  intervenes  between  forming 
an  engagement  and  consummating  the  connection,  let 
your  deportment  toward  the  individual  to  whom  you 
have  given  your  affections  be  marked  by  modesty  and 
dignity,  respect  and  kindness.  Never,  on  the  one 
hand,  give  him  the  least  reason  to  question  the  sin- 
cerity of  your  regard,  nor  on  the  other,  suffer  your 
intercourse  with  him  to  be  marked  by  an  undignified 
familiarity.  Do  all  that  you  can  to  render  him  happy, 
and  while  you  will  naturally  grow  in  each  other's  confi- 
dence and  affection,  you  may  reasonably  hope  that 
you  will  be  helpers  of  each  other's  joy.  in  the  most 
endearing  of  all  human  relations. 


LOVE.  453 


"  Oh  happy  state!    when  souls  each  other  draw,       ' 
When  love  is  liberty,  and  nature  law  : 
All  then  is  full,  possessing  and  possess'd, 
No  craving  void  left  aching  in  the  breast  : 
Even  thought  meets  thought,  ere  from  the  lips  it  part, 
And  each  warm  wish  springs  mutual  from  the  heart." 

LOVE  is  such  a  giant  power  that  it  seems  to  gather 
strength  from  obstructions,  and  at  every  difficulty 
rises  to  higher  might.  It  is  all  dominant  —  all  con- 
quering ;  a  grand  leveler  which  can  bring  down  to  its 
own  universal  line  of  equalization  the  proudest 
heights,  and  remove  the  most  stubborn  impediments : 
"  Like  death,  it  levels  all  ranks,  and  lays  the  shepherd's 
crook  beside  the  sceptre."  There  is  no  hope  of 
resisting  it,  for  it  outwatches  the  most  vigilant  - 
submerges  everything,  acquiring  strength  as  it  pro- 
ceeds ;  ever  growing,  nay,  growing  out  of  itself. 
Love  is  the  light,  the  majesty  of  life,  that  principle  to 
which,  after  all  our  struggling,  and  writhing,  and 
twisting,  all  things  must  be  resolved.  Take  it  away, 
and  what  becomes  of  the  world !  It  is  a  barren  wil- 
derness!  A  world  of  monuments,  each  standing 
upright  and  crumbling ;  an  army  of  gray  stones,  with- 
out a  chaplet,  without  a  leaf  to  take  off,  with  its 
glimpse  of  gredn,  their  flat  insipidity  and  offensive 
uniformity  upon  a  shrubless  plain.  Things  base  and 
foul,  creeping  and  obscure,  withered,  bloodless,  and 
brainless,  could  alone  spring  from  such  a  marble 
hearted  soil. 


454 


Love's  darts  are  silver  ;  when  they  turn  to  fire  in 
the  noble  heart,  they  impart  a  portion  of  that  heavenly 
flame  which  is  their  element.  Love  is  of  such  a  refin- 
ing, elevating  character,  that  it  expels  all  that  is  mean 
and  base  ;  bids  us  think  great  thoughts,  do  great 
deeds,  and  changes  our  common  clay  into  fine  gold. 
It  illuminates  our  path,  dark  and  mysterious  as  it  may 
be,  with  torchlights  lit  from  the  one  great,light.  Oh  ! 
poor,  weak,  and  inexpressive  are  words  when  sought 
to  strew,  as  with  stars,  the  path  and  track  of  the 
expression  of  love's  greatness  and  power!  Dull, 
pitiful,  and  cold  ;  a  cheating,  horny  gleam,  as  stones 
strung  by  the  side  of  precious  gems,  and  the 
far-flashing  of  the  sparkling  ruby  with  his  heart  of 
fire  !.  The  blue  eyes  of  turquoises,  or  the  liquid  light 
of  the  sapphire,  should  alone  be  tasked  to  spell  along, 
and  character  our  thoughts  of  love. 

The  loves  that  make  memory  happy  and  home 
beautiful,  are  those  which  form  the  sunlight  of  our 
earliest  consciousness,  beaming  gratefully  along  the 
path  of  maturity,  and  their  radiance  lingering  till  the 
shadow  of  death  darkens  them  all  together. 

But  there  is  another  love  —  that  which  blends 
young  hearts  in  blissful  unity,  and,  for  the  time,  so 
ignores  past  ties  and  affections,  as  to  make  willing 
separation  of  the  son  from  his  father's  house,  and  the 
daughter  from  all  the  sweet  endearments  of  her 
childhood's  home,  to  go  out  together,  and  rear  for 
themselves  an  altar,  around  which  shall  cluster  all  the 
cares  and  delights,  the  anxieties  and  sympathies,  of 
the  family  relationship  ;  this  love,  if  pure,  unselfish, 


LOVE. 


455 


And  discreet,  constitutes  the  chief  usefulness  and 
happiness  of  human  life.  Without  it,  there  would  be 
no  organized  households,  and,  consequently,  none  of 
that  earnest  endeavor  for  competence  and  respecta- 
bility, which  is  the  main-spring-  to  human  effort; 
none  of  those  sweet,  softening,  restraining  and 
elevating  influences  of  domestic  life,  which  can  alone 
fill  the  earth  with  the  glory  of  the  Lord  and  make 
glad  the  city  of  Zion.  This  love  is  indeed  heaven 
upon  earth ;  but  above  would  not  be  heaven  without 
it;  where  there  is  not  love,  there  is  fear;  but,  "love 
casteth  out  fear."  And  yet  we  naturally  do  offend 
what  we  most  love. 

Love  is  the  sun  of  life ;  most  beautiful  in  morning 
and  evening,  but  warmest  and  steadiest  at  noon.  It 
is  the  sun  of  the  soul.  Life  without  love  is  worse 
than  death  ;  a  world  without  a  sun.  The  love  which 
does  not  lead  to  labor  will  soon  die  out,  and  the 
thankfulness  which  does  not  embody  itself  in  sacrifices 
is  already  changing  to  gratitude.  Love  is  not  ripened 
in  one  day,  nor  in  many,  nor  even  in  a  human  lifetime. 
It  is  the  oneness  of  soul  with  soul  in  appreciation  and 
perfect  trust.  To  be  blessed  it  must  rest  in  that  faith 
in  the  Divine  which  underlies  every  other  emotion. 
To  be  true,  it  must  be  eternal  as  God  himself.  Zeno 
being  told  that  it  was  humiliating  to  a  philosopher  to 
be  in  love,  remarked :  "  If  that  be  true,  the  fair  sex 
are  much  to  be  pitied,  for  they  would  receive  the 
attention  only  of  fools."  Some  love  a  girl  for  beauty, 
some  for  virtue,  and  others  for  understanding.  Goethe 
says:  "We  love  a  girl  for  very  different  things  than 


456  LOVE. 

understanding-.  We  love  her  for  her  beauty,  her 
youth,  her  mirth,  her  confidingness,  her  character, 
with  its  faults,  caprices,  and  God  knows  what  other 
inexpressible  charms ;  but  we  do  not  love  her  under- 
standing. Her  mind  we  esteem  (if  it  is  brilliant)',  and 
it  may  greatly  elevate  her  in  our  opinion ;  nay,  more, 
it  may  enchain  us  when  we  already  love.  But  her 
understanding  is  not  that  which  awakens  and  inflames 
our  passions." 

Love  is  blind,  and  lovers  cannot  see 

The  pretty  follies  that  themselves  commit. 

Remember  that  love  is  dependent  upon  forms; 
courtesy  of  etiquette  guards  and  protects  courtesy  of 
heart.  How  many  hearts  have  been  lost  irrecover- 
ably, and  how  many  averted  eyes  and  cold  looks  have 
been  gained  from  what  seemed,  perhaps,  but  a  trifling- 
negligence  of  forms.  Men  and  women  should  not 
be  judged  by  the  same  rules.  There  are  many  radi- 
cal differences  in  their  affectional  natures.  Man  is 
the  creature  of  interest  and  ambition.  His  nature 
leads  him  forth  into  the  struggle  and  bustle  of  the 
world.  Love  is  but  the  embellishment  of  his  early 
life,  or  a  song  piped  in  the  intervals  of  the  acts.  He 
seeks  for  fame,  for  fortune,  for  space  in  the  world's 
thoug-hts,  and  dominion  over  his  fellow-men.  But  a 
woman's  whole  life  is  a  history  of  the  affections. 
The  heart  is  her  world ;  it  is  there  her  ambition 
strives  for  empire ;  it  is  there  her  ambition  seeks  for 
hidden  treasures.  She  sends  forth  her  sympathies 
on  adventure ;  she  embarks  her  whole  soul  in  the 


LOVE.  457 

traffic  of  affection ;   and    if  shipwrecked   her   case    is 
hopeless,  for  it  is  bankruptcy  of  the  heart. 

Man's  love  is  of  man's  life  a  thing,  a  part ; 
'Tis  woman's  whole  existence. 

For  every  woman  it  is  with  the  food  of  the  heart 
as  with  that  of  the  body ;  it  is  possible  to  exist  on  a 
very  small  quantity,  but  that  small  quantity  is  an  abso- 
lute necessity.  Woman  loves  or  abhors ;  man  ad- 
mires or  despises.  Woman  without  love  is  a  fruit 
without  flower.  In  love,  the  virtuous  woman  says  no; 
the  passionate  says  yes  ;  the  capricious  says  yes  and 
no  ;  the  coquette  neither  yes  nor  no.  A  coquette  is  a 
rose  from  whom  every  lover  plucks  a  leaf;  the  thorn 
remains  for  the  future  husband.  She  may  be  com- 
pared to  tinder  which  catches  sparks,  but  does  not 
always  succeed  in  lighting1  a  match.  Love,  while  it 
frequently  corrupts  pure  hearts,  often  purifies  corrupt 
hearts.  How  well  he  knew  the  human  heart  who 
said:  "We  wish  to  constitute  all  the  happiness,  or 
if  that  cannot  be,  the  misery  of  the  one  we  love." 

Woman's  love  is  stronger  than  death ;  it  %  rises 
superior  to  adversity,  and  towers  in  sublime  beauty 
above  the  niggardly  selfishness  of  the  world.  Mis- 
fortune cannot  suppress  it;  enmity  cannot  alienate  it; 
temptation  cannot  enslave  it.  It  is  the  guardian 
angel  of  the  nursery  and  the  sick  bed  ;  it  gives  an 
affectionate  concord  to  the  partnership  of  life  and 
interest,  circumstances  cannot  modify  it;  it  ever 
remains  the  same  to  sweeten  existence,  to  purify  the 
cup  of  life  on  the  rugged  pathway  to  the  grave,  and 
melt  to  moral  pliability  the  brittle  nature  of  man.  It 


458  LOVE. 

is  the  ministering  spirit  of  home,  hovering  in  soothing 
caresses  over  the  cradle,  and  the  death-bed  of  the 
household,  and  filling  up  the  urn  of  all  its  sacred 

memories. 

* 

How  many  bright  eyes  grow  dim  —  how  many  soft 
cheeks  grow  pale  —  how  many  lovely  forms  fade 
away  into  the  tomb,  and  none  can  tell  the  cause  that 
blighted  their  loveliness !  As  the  dove  will  clasp  its 
wings  to  its  side,  and  cover  and  conceal  the  arrow 
that  is  preying  on  its  vitals,  so  it  is  the  nature  of 
woman  to  hide  from  the  world  the  pangs  of  wounded 
affection.  The  love  of  a  delicate  female  is  always- 
shy  and  silent.  Even  when  fortunate  she  scarcely 
breathes  it  to  herself;  but  when  otherwise,  she 
buries  it  in  the  recesses  of  her  bosom,  and  there  lets, 
it  brood  and  cower  among  the  ruins  of  her  peace. 
With  her  the  desire  of  the  heart  has  failed.  The 
great  charm  of  existence  is  at  an  end.  She  neglejcts. 
all  the  cheerful  exercises  which  gladden  the  spirits, 
quicken  the  pulses,  and  send  the  tide  of  life  in 
healthful  currents  through  the  veins.  Her  rest  is 
broken  —  the  sweet  refreshment  of  sleep  is  poisoned 
by  melancholy  dreams  —  "dry  sorrow  drinks  her 
blood,"  until  her  feeble  frame  sinks  under  the  slight- 
est external  injury.  Look  for  her  after  a  little  while, 
and  you  will  find  friendship  weeping  over  her 
untimely  grave,  and  wondering  that  one  who  but 
lately  glowed  with  all  the  radiance  of  health  and: 
beauty,  should  be  so  speedily  brought  down  to  "dark- 
ness and  the  worm."  You  will  be  told  of  some 
wintry  chill,  some  casual  indisposition  that  laid  her 


LOVE. 


459 


low ;  but  no  one  knows  of  the  mental  malady  that 
previously  sapped  her  strength  and  made  her  so  easy 
a  prey  to  the  spoiler. 

The  affection  that  links  together  man  and  wife  is  a 
far  holier  and  more  enduring  passion  than  the  enthu- 
siasm of  young  love.  It  may  want  its  gorgeousness 
—  it  may  want  its  imaginative  character,  but  it  is  far 
richer,  and  holier,  and  more  trusting  in  its  attributes. 
Talk  not  to  us  of  the  absence  of  love  in  wedlock. 
No !  it  burns  with  a  steady  and  brilliant  flame, 
shedding  a  benign  influence  upon  existence,  a  million 
times  more  precious  and  delightful  than  the  cold 
dreams  of  philosophy.  Domestic  love !  Who  can 
measure  its  height  or  its  depth  ?  Who  can  estimate 
its  preserving  and  purifying  power?  It  sends  an 
ever  swelling  stream  of  life  through  a  household,  it 
binds  hearts  into  one  "bundle  of  life;"  it  shields 
them  from  temptation,  it  takes  the  sting  from  disap- 
pointments and  sorrow,  it  breathes  music  into  the 
voice,  into  the  footsteps,  it  gives  worth  and  beauty  to 
the  commonest  office,  it  surrounds  home  with  an 
atmosphere  of  moral  health,  it  gives  power  to  effort 
and  wings  to  progress,  it  is  omnipotent.  Love,  amid 
the  other  graces  in  this  world,  is  like  a  cathedral 
tower,  which  begins  on  the  earth,  and,  at  first,  is 
surrounded  by  the  other  parts  of  the  structure ;  but. 
at  length,  rising  above  buttressed  wall,  and  arch,  and 
parapet,  and  pinnacle,  it  shoots  spire-like  many  a  foot 
right  into  the  air,  so  high  that  the  huge  cross  on  its 
summit  glows  like  a  spark  in  the  morning  light  and 
shines  like  a  star  in  the  evening  sky,  when  the  rest 
of  the  pile  is  enveloped  in  darkness. 


460  LOVE- 

He  who  loves  a  lady's  complexion,  form  and  feat- 
ures, loves  not  her  true  self,  but  her  soul's  old  clothes. 
The  love  that  has  nothing  but  beauty  to  sustain  it, 
soon  withers  and  dies.  The  love  that  is  fed  with 
presents  always  requires  feeding".  Love  and  love 
only,  is  the  loan  for  love.  Love  is  of  the  nature  of  a 
burning  glass,  which,  kept  still  in  one  place,  lights 
fire ;  changed  often,  it  does  nothing.  The  purest  joy 
we  can  experience  in  one  we  love,  is  to  see  that  per- 
son a  source  of  happiness  to  others.  When  you  are 
with  the  person  loved,  you  have  no  sense  of  being 
bored.  This  humble  and  trivial  circumstance  is  the 
great  test  —  the  only  sure  and  abiding  test  of  love. 
With  the  persons  you  do  not  love  you  are  never 
supremely  at  your  ease.  You  have  some  of  the  sen- 
sation of  walking  upon  stilts.  In  conversation  with 
them,  however  much  you  admire  them  and  are  inter- 
ested in  them,  the  horrid  idea  will  cross  your  mind  of 
"What  shall  I  say  next?"  Dne  has  well  said,  "In 
true  love  the  burden  of  conversation  is  borne  by  both 
the  lovers,  and  the  one  of  them  who,  with  knightly 
intent,  would  bear  it  alone,  would  only  thus  cheat  the 
other  of  a  part  of  his  best  fortune."  When  two  souls 
come  together,  each  seeking  to  magnify  the  other, 
each  in  a  subordinate  sense  worshiping  the  other, 
each  helps  the  other ;  the  two  flying  together  so  that 
each  wing-beat  of  the  one  helps  each  wing-beat  of  the 
other  —  when  two  souls  come  together  thus,  they  are 
lovers.  They  who  unitedly  move  themselves  away 
from  grossness  and  from  earth,  toward  the  throne 
crystalline  and  the  pavement  golden,  are,  indeed,  true 
lovers. 


MATRIMONY. 


IT  is  pleasant  to  contemplate  the  associations  clus- 
tering around  the  wedding  morn.  It  is  the  happiest 
hour  of  human  life,  and  breaks  upon  the  young  heart 
like  a  gentle  spring  upon  the  flowers  of  earth.  It  is 
the  hour  of  bounding,  joyous  expectancy,  when  the 
ardent  spirit,  arming  itself  with  bold  hope,  looks  with 
undaunted  mien  upon  the  dark  and  terrible  future.  It 
is  the  hour  when  thought  borrows  the  livery  of  good- 
ness, and  humanity,  looking  from  its  tenement,  across 
the  broad  common  of  life,  shakes  off  its  heavy  load 
of  sordidness,  and  gladly  swings  to  its  shoulders  the 
light  burden  of  love  and  kindness.  It  is  the  heart's 
hour,  full  of  blissful  contemplation,  rich  promises,  and 
the  soul's  happy  revels.  We  cordially  echo  the 
sentiment,  Happy  morn,  garmented  with  the  human 
virtues,  it  shows  life  to  the  eye,  lovely,  as  if 

"Clad  in  the  beauty  of  a  thousand  stars." 

"Marriage  is  a  lottery,"  the  saying  goes,  and  there 
are  plenty  who  believe  it,  and  who  act  accordingly. 
and  for  such  it  is  well  if  they  do  no  worse  than  draw 
a  blank,  if  they  do  not  draw  a  life-long  misery  and 
pain.  But  marriage  is  not  necessarily  a  lottery,  either 
in  the  initial  choice  or  in  the  months  and  years  after 
the  marriage  day.  One  can  shut  his  eyes  and  draw, 
or  one  can  open  them  and  choose.  One  can  choose 
with  the  outward  eye  alone,  or  with  the  eye  of  intel- 


462  MATRIMONY. 

lect  and  conscience.  Says  Jeremy  Taylor,  speaking 
of  marriages  where  physical  beauty  is  the  only  bond: 
""It  is  an  ill  band  of  affections  to  tie  two  hearts 
together  with  a  little  thread  of  red  and  white."  But 
let  us  choose  ever  so  wisely,  ever  so  deeply,  and  not 
we  ourselves  nor  the  minister  can  marry  us  completely 
•on  the  wedding  day.  "A  happy  wedlock  is  a  long 
falling  in  love."  Marriage  is  very  gradual,  a  fraction 
of  us  at  a  time.  And  the  real  ministers  that  marry 
people  are  the  slow  years,  the  joys  and  sorrows  which 
they  bring,  our  children  on  earth,  and  the  angels  they 
are  transfigured  into  in  heaven,  the  toils  and  burdens 
borne  in  company.  These  are  the  ministers  that 
really  marry  us,  and  compared  with  these,  the  minis- 
ters who  go  through  a  form  of  words  some  day,  when 
heaven  and  eartU  seem  to  draw  near  and  kiss  each 
other,  are  of  small  account.  And  the  real  marriage 
service  isn't  anything  printed  or  said ;  it  is  the  true 
heart  service  which  each  yields  to  the  other,  year  in 
and  year  out,  when  the  bridal  wreath  has  long  since 
faded,  and  even  the  marriage  ring  is  getting  sadly 
worn.  Let  this  service  be  performed,  and  even  if  the 
marriage  was  a  lottery  to  begin  with,  this  would  go 
far  to  redeem  it  and  make  it  a  marriage  of  coequal 
hearts  and  minds. 

When  the  honeymoon  passes  away,  setting  behind 
dull  mountains,  or  dipping  silently  into  the  stormy  sea 
of  life,  the  trying  hour  of  married  life  has  come. 
Between  the  parties  there  are  no  more  illusions.  The 
feverish  desire  for  possession  has  gone,  and  all  excit- 
ment  receded.  Then  begins,  or  should,  the  business 


MATRIMONY.  463 

of  adaptation.  If  they  find  that  they  do  not  love 
one  another  as  they  thought  they  did,  they  should 
double  their  assiduous  attentions  to  one  another,  and 
be  jealous  of  everything-  which  tends  in  the  slightest 
way  to  separate  them.  Life  is  too  precious  to  be 
thrown  away  in  secret  regrets  or  open  differences. 
And  let  us  say  to  every  one  to  whom  the  romance  of 
life  has  fled,  and  who  are  discontented  in  the  slightest 
degree  with  their  conditions  and  relations,  begin  this 
reconciliation  at  once.  Renew  the  attentions  of  earlier 
days.  Draw  your  hearts  closer  together.  Talk  the 
thing  all  over.  Acknowledge  your  faults  to  one 
another,  and  determine  that  henceforth  you  will  be 
all  in  all  to  each  other ;  and  my  word  for  it,  you 
shall  find  in  your  relation  the  sweetest  joy  earth  has 
for  you.  There  is  no  other  way  for  you  to  do.  If 
you  are  happy  at  home,  you  must  be  happy  abroad; 
the  man  or  woman  who  has  settled  down  upon  the 
conviction  that  he  or  she  is  attached  for  life  to  an 
uncongenial  yoke-fellow,  and  that  there  is  no  way  of 
escape,  has  lost  life ;  there  is  no  effort  too  costly  to 
make  which  can  restore  to  its  setting  upon  the  bosom 
the  missing  pearl. 

It  is  a  great  thing  for  two  frail  natures  to  live  as  one 
for  life  long.  Two  harps  are  not  easily  kept  always 
in  tune,  and  what  shall  we  expect  of  two  harps  each 
of  a  thousand  strings  ?  What  human  will  or  wisdom 
cannot  do,  God  can  do,  and  his  Providence  is  uniting 
ever  more  intimately,  those  who  devoutly  try  to  do 
the  work  of  life  and  enjoy  its  goods  together.  For 
them  there  is  in  store  a  respect  and  affection ;  a 


464  MATRIMONY. 

peace  and  power  all  unknown  in  the  hey-day  of  young 
romance.  Experience  intertwines  their  remembrances 
and  hopes  in  stronger  cords,  and  as  they  stand  at 
the  loom  of  time,  one  with  the  strong  warp,  the  other 
with  the  finer  woof,  the  hand  of  Providence  weaves 
for  them  a  tissue  of  unfading  beauty  and  imperishable 
worth. 

The  marriage  institution  is  the  bond  of  social 
order,  and,  if  treated  with  due  respect,  care,  and  dis- 
cretion, greatly  enchances  individual  happiness,  and 
consequently  general  good.  The  Spartan  law  pun- 
ished those  who  did  not  marry;  those  who  married 
too  late ;  and  those  who  married  improperly.  A 
large  portion  of  the  evils  that  have  defaced  the  origi- 
nal organization  of  the  patriarchal  age  have  resulted 
from  the  increase  of  celibacy,  often  caused  by  the 
imaginary  refinements  of  the  upper  ten  thousand. 
There  are  other  causes  that  have  stripped  the  mar- 
riage institution  of  its  ancient  simplicity,  and  rendered 
its  pure  stream  turbid  in  places.  Among  the  Patri- 
archs, before  there  were  any  rakes,  parents  never 
interfered,  the  young  pair  made  the  match,  and  the 
girl  always  married  the  man  of  her  choice,  an  indis- 
pensable pre-requisite  to  a  happy  union. 

How  to  secure  happiness  to  married  life  is  the 
question.  Some  one  would  say,  "You  might  as  well 
ask  to  find  the  philosopher's  stone,  or  the  elixir  of 
prepetual  youth,  or  the  Utopia  of  perfect  society !" 
The  prime  difficulty  in  the  case  is  the  entire  thought- 
lessness, the  want  of  consideration,  common  sense 
and  practical  wisdom.  Not  only  young  persons  con- 


MATRIMONY.  455 

tern  plating  marriage  —  which  includes  all  between  the 
age  of  eighteen  and  thirty-five  —  but  also  many  mar- 
ried people  have  a  vague  notion  that  happiness  comes 
of  itself.  They  wait  for  certain  dreams  of  Elysium 
to  be  fulfilled  by  beatific  realities.  Happiness  does 
not  come  of  its  own  accord  nor  by  accident  It  is 
not  a  gift,  but  an  attainment.  Circumstances  may 
favor,  but  cannot  create  it.  But  advice  to  those  who 
stand,  or  mean  to  stand  by  the  hymeneal  altar,  falls 
upon  dull  ears,  and  every  coupled  pair  flatter  them- 
selves that  their  experience  will  be  better  and  more 
excellent  than  that  of  any  who  have  gone  before 
them.  They  look  with  amazement  at  the  tameness, 
and  coldness,  and  diversities,  and  estrangements,  and 
complainings,  and  dissatisfactions,  which  spoil  the 
comfort  of  so  many  homes,  as  at  things  which  cannot, 
by  any  possibility  fall  to  their  happier  lot.  But  like 
causes  produce  like  effects,  and  to  avoid  the  misfor- 
tunes of  others,  we  must  avoid  their  mistakes. 

Love  on  both  .;des,  and  all  things  equal  in  outward 
circumstances,  re  not  all  the  requisites  of  domestic 
felicity.  Human  nature,  is  frail  and  multiform  in  its 
passions.  The  honeymoon  gets  a  dash  of  vinegar 
now  and  then,  when  least  expected.  Young  people 
seldom  court  in  their  every-day  clothes,  but  they  must 
put  them  on  after  marriage.  As  in  other  bargains, 
but  few  expose  .defects.  They  are  apt  to  marry 
faultless — love  is  blind  —  but  faults  are  there  and  will 
come  out.  ihe  fastidious  attentions  of  wooing  are 
like  spring  flowers,  they  make  pretty  nosegays,  but 
poor  greens.  Miss  Darling  becomes  the  plain  house 

30 


466  MATRIMONY. 

wife,  and  Mr.  Allattention  the  informal  husband  not 
from  a  want  of  esteem,  but  from  the  constitution  and 
nature  of  man.  If  all  these  changes,  and  more  thau 
would  answer  in  wooing-  time,  are  anticipated,  as  they 
are  by  some  analyzing  minds,  their  happiness  will  not 
be  embittered  by  them  when  they  come.  Bear  and 
forbear,  must  be  the  motto  put  in  practice. 

We  exhort  you,  who  are  a  husband,  to  love  your 
wife,  even  as  you  love  yourself.  Give  honor  to  her 
as  the  more  delicate  vessel ;  respect  the  delicacy  oi 
her  frame  and  the  delicacy  of  her  mind.  Continue 
through  life  the  same  attention,  the  same  manly  ten- 
derness which  in  youth  gained  her  affections.  Reflect 
that,  though  her  bodily  charms  are  decayed  as  she  is 
advanced  in  age,  yet  that  her  mental  charms  are 
increased,  and  that,  though  novelty  is  worn  off,  yet 
that  habit  and  a  thousand  acts  of  kindness  have 
strengthened  your  mutual  friendship.  Devote  your- 
self to  her,  and,  after  the  hours  of  business,  let  the 
pleasures  which  you  most  highly  prize  be  found  in 
her  society. 

We  dxhort  you,  who  are  a  wife,  to  be  gentle  and 
condescending  to  your  husband.  Let  the  influence 
which  you  possess  over  him  arise  from  the  mildness 
of  your  manners  and  the  discretion  of  your  conduct. 
Whilst  you  are  careful  to  adorn  your  person  with  neat 
and  clean  apparel  —  for  no  woman  can  long  preserve 
affection  if  she  is  negligent  in  this  point  —  be  still 
more  attentive  in  ornamenting  your  mind  with  meek- 
ness and  peace,  with  cheerfulness  and  good  humor. 
Lighten  the  cares  and  chase  away  the  vexations  to 


MATRIMONY. 


467 


-which  men,  in  their  commerce  with  the  world,  are 
unavoidably  exposed,  by  rendering  his  house  pleasant 
to  your  husband.  Keep  at  home,  let  your  employ- 
ments be  domestic  and  your  pleasures  domestic. 

To  both  husband  and  wife  we  say:  "Preserve  a 
strict  guard  over  your  tongues,  that  you  never  utter 
anything  which  is  rude,  contemptuous,  or  severe; 
and  over  your  tempers,  that  you  never  appear  sullen 
and  morose.  Endeavor  to  be  perfect  yourselves,  but 
expect  not  too  much  from  each  other.  If  any  offense 
.arise,  forgive  it ;  and  think  not  that  a  human  being 
can  be  exempt  from  faults." 

In  conclusion  we  would  say,  that  marriage  is  one 
of  God's  first  blessings.  Although  it  involves  many 
weighty  responsibilities,  it  is  a  gem  in  the  crown  of 
life.  Man  and  wife  are  equally  concerned  to  avoid 
all  offenses  of  each  other  in  the  beginning  of  their 
conversation :  every  little  thing  can  blast  an  infant 
blossom,  and  the  breath  of  the  south  can  shake  the 
little  rings  of  the  vine,  when  first  they  begin  to  curl 
like  the  locks  of  a  new-weaned  boy;  but  when,  by 
age  and  consolidation,  they  stiffen  into  the  hardness 
of  a  stem,  and  have,  by  the  warm  embraces  of  the  sun 
and  the  kisses  of  heaven,  brought  forth  their  clus- 
ters, they  can  endure  the  storms  of  the  north  and  the 
loud  noises  of  a  tempest,  and  yet  never  be  broken  : 
so  are  the  early  unions  of  an  unfixed  marriage  ;  watch- 
ful and  observant,  jealous  and  busy,  inquisitive  and 
careful,  and  apt  to  take  alarm  at  every  unkind  word. 
After  the  hearts  of  the  man  and  the  wife  are  endeared 
and  hardened  by  a  mutual  confidence  and  experience, 


468  THE    CONJUGAL    RELATION. 

longer  than  artifice  and  pretence  can  last,  there  are 
a  great  many  remembrances,  and  some  things  present 
that  dash  all  little  unkindnesses  in  pieces. 


HAVE  you  taken  upon  yourselves  the  conjugal 
relation?  Your  high  and  solemn  duty  is  to  make 
each  other  as  happy  as  it  is  in  your  power.  The 
husband  should  have,  as  his  great  object  and  rule  of 
conduct,  the  happiness  of  the  wife.  Of  that  hap- 
piness, the  confidence  in  his  affection  is  the  chief 
element;  and  the  proofs  of  this  affection  on  his  part, 
therefore,  constitute  his  chief  duty  —  an  affection  that 
is  not  lavish  of  caresses  only,  as  if  these  were  the 
only  demonstrations  of  love,  but  of  that  respect  which 
distinguishes  love,  as  a  principle,  from  that  brief  pas- 
sion which  assumes,  and  only  assumes,  the  name — a 
respect  which  consults  the  judgment,  as  well  as  the 
wishes,  of  the  object  beloved  —  which  considers  her 
who  is  worthy  of  being  taken  to  the  heart  as  worthy 
of  being  admitted  to  all  the  counsels  of  the  heart. 
He  must  often  forget -her,  or  be  useless  to  the  world; 
she  is  most  useful  to  the  world  by  remembering  him. 
From  the  tumultuous  scenes  which  agitate  many  of 
his  hours,  he  returns  to  the  calm  scene,  where  peace 
awaits  him,  and  happiness  is  sure  to  await  him; 
because  she  is  there  waiting,  whose  smile  is  peace, 


THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION.  469 

and  whose  very  presence  is  more  than  happiness  to 
his  heart. 

In  your  joy  at  the  consummation  of  your  wishes, 
do  not  forget  that  your  happiness  both  here  and 
hereafter  depends  —  O  how  much  ! —  upon  each  other's 
influence.  An  unkind  word  or  look,  or  an  uninten- 
tional neglect,  sometimes  leads  to  thoughts  which 
ripen  into  the  ruin  of  body  and  soul.  A  spirit  of 
forbearance,  patience,  and  kindness,  and  a  determin- 
ation to  keep  the  chain  of  love  bright,  are  likely  to 
develop  corresponding  qualities,  and  to  make  the 
rough  places  of  life  smooth  and  pleasant.  Have  you 
•ever  reflected  seriously  that  it  is  in  the  power  of 
either  of  you  to  make  the  other  utterly  miserable  ? 
And  when  the  storms  and  trials  of  life  come,  for  come 
they  will,  how  much  either  of  you  can  do  to  calm,  to 
elevate,  to  purify,  the  troubled  spirit  of  the  other,  and 
substitute  sunshine  for  the  storm  ? 

We  cannot  look  upon  marriage  in  the  light  in 
which  many  seem  to  regard  it  —  merely  as  a  con- 
venient arrangement  in  society.  To  persons  of 
benevolence,  intelligence,  and  refinement,  it  must  be 
something  more  —  the  source  of  the  greatest  possible 
happiness  or  of  the  most  abject  misery  —  no  half-way 
felicity.  You  have  not  had  the  folly  to  discard 
common  sense.  You  have  endeavored  to  study 
charitably  and  carefully  the  peculiarities  of  each  other's 
habits,  dispositions,  and  principles,  and  to  anticipate 
somewhat  the  inconveniencies  to  which  they  may  lead. 
And  as  you  are  determined  to  outdo  each  other  in 
making  personal  sacrifices,  and  to  live  by  the  spirit  of 


470  THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION. 

the  Savior,  you  have  laid  a  foundation  for  happiness,, 
which  it  is  not  likely  will  be  shaken  by  the  joys  or 
sorrows,  the  prosperity  or  adversity,  the  riches  or 
poverty,  or  by  the  frowns  or  flattery,  of  the  world. 
If  there  is  a  place  on  earth  to  which  vice  has  no- 
entrance —  where  the  gloomy  passions  have  no 
empire  —  where  pleasure  and  innocence  live  con- 
stantly together  —  where  cares  and  labors  are  delight- 
ful—  where  every  pain  is  forgotten  in  reciprocal 
tenderness  —  where  there  is  an  equal  enjoyment  of 
the  past,  the  present,  and  the  future  —  it  is  the  house 
of  a  wedded  pair,  but  of  a  pair  who,  in  wedlock,  are 
lovers  still. 

The  married  life,  though  entered  never  so  well,  and 
with  all  proper  preparation,  must  be  lived  well  or  it 
will  not  be  useful  or  happy.  Married  life  will  not 
go  itself,  or  if  it  does  it  will  not  keep  the  track.  It 
will  turn  off  at  every  switch  and  fly  off  at  every  turn 
or  impediment.  It  needs  a  couple  of  good  conduc- 
tor^ who  understand  the  engineering  of  life.  Good 
watch  must  be  kept  for  breakers  ahead.  The  fires 
must  be  kept  up  by  a  constant  addition  of  the  fuel  of 
affection.  The  boilers  must  be  kept  full  and  the 
machinery  in  order,  and  all  hands  at  their  posts,  else 
there  will  be  a  smashing  up,  or  life  will  go  hobbling 
or  jolting  along,  wearing  and  tearing,  breaking  and 
bruising,  leaving  some  heads  and  hearts  to  get  well 
the  best  way  they  can.  It  requires  skill,  prudence, 
and  judgment  to  lead  this  life  well,  and  these  must  be 
tempere  1  with  forbearance,  charity  and  integrity. 

The  young  are  apt  to  hang  too  many  garlands  about 


THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION.  471 

the  married  life.  This  is  so  as  this  life  is  generally- 
lived.  But  if  it  is  wisely  entered  and  truthfully  lived, 
it  is  more  beautiful  and  happy  than  any  have  imag- 
ined. It  is  the  true  life  which  God  has  designed  for  his 
children,  replete  with  joy,  delightful,  improving,  and. 
satisfactory  in  the  highest  possible  earthly  degree.  It 
is  the  hallowed  home  of  virtue,  peace,  and  bliss.  It 
is  the  ante-chamber  of  heaven,  the  visiting-place  of 
angels,  the  communing  ground  of  kindred  spirits.  Let 
all  young  women  who  would  reap  such  joys  and  be 
thus  blessed  and  happy,  learn  to  live  the  true  life  and 
be  prepared  to  weave  for  their  brows  the  true  wife's 
perennial  crown  of  goodness. 

The  experience  of  an  excellent  lady  may  be  of 
benefit  to  some  reader.  She  had  a  very  worthy  hus- 
band, whom  she  did  not  love  as  she  should.  The 
trouble  was  she  had  not  entirely  surrendered  herself 
to  him  until  after  she  had  been  very  ill.  She  says : 
"  I  have  been  very  ill,  almost  dead.  Such  care  and 
devotion  as  I  have  had !  What  a  rock  my  heart 
must  have  been,  not  to  be  broken  before.  Day  and 
night  my  husband  has  watched  me  himself,  sleepless 
and  tireless ;  nobody  else  could  do  so  much.  Now  I 
koow  what  love  me^ns.  My  husband  shall  never  say 
again,  'Love  me  more.'  He  shall  have  all  there  is  to 
give,  and  I  think  my  heart  is  larger  than  it  was  a 
year  ago.  What  a  thrill  of  joy  it  gives  me  when 
I  catch  his  eye,  or  hear  his  voice  or  step.  My 
heart  runs  to  meet  him  and  my  eyes  overflow  with 
tears  of  happiness.  How  mean  and  contemptible  it 
seems  to  me  to  desire  the  attention  of  other  men,  or 


472  THE    CONJUGAL    RELATION. 

to  wish  to  go  anywhere  he  cannot  accompany  me.  I 
despise  myself  for  ever  thinking  such  pleasures 
desirable.  I  delight  to  say,  'My  husband,  my  good, 
noble,  generous,  forgiving  husband,  keep  me  close  to 
you.  That  is  all  the  happiness  I  ask.'  I  know  now 
that  all  the  trouble  was  the  result  of  not  having  a 
full,  complete  giving  up  of  myself,  when  I  promised 
to  be  a  wife  —  a  consecration  of  true  love." 

The  warmest-hearted  and  most  unselfish  women 
soon  learn  to  accept  quiet  trust  and  the  loyalty  of  a 
loving  life  as  the  calmest  and  happiest  condition  of 
marriage ;  and  the  men  who  are  sensible  enough  to 
rely  on  the  good  sense  of  such  wives  sail  round  the 
gushing  adorers  both  for  true  affection  and  comfort- 
able tranquillity. 

Just  let  a  young  wife  remember  that  her  husband 
necessarily  is  under  a  certain  amount  of  bondage  all 
day ;  that  his  interests  compel  him  to  look  pleasant 
under  all  circumstances,  to  offend  none,  to  say  no 
hasty  word,  and  she  will  see  that  when  he  reaches 
his  own  fireside  he  wants,  most  of  all,  to  have  this 
strain  removed,  to  be  at  ease ;  but  this  he  cannot  be 
if  he  is  continually  afraid  of  wounding  his  wife's  sen- 
sibilities by  forgetting  some  outward  and  visible  token 
of  his  affection  for  her.  Besides,  she  pays  him  but  a 
poor  compliment  in  refusing  to  believe  what  he  does 
not  continually  assert,  and  by  fretting  for  what  is 
unreasonable  to  desire  she  deeply  wrongs  herself,  for 

"  A  woman  moved  is  like  a  fountain  troubled, 
Muddy,  ill-seeming,  thick,  bereft  of  beauty." 

Make  a  home  ;  beautify  and  adorn  it ;  cultivate  all 


THE    CONJUGAL    RELATION.  473 

heavenly  charms  within  it ;  sing  sweet  songs  of  love 
in  it;  bear  your  portion  of  toil,  and  pain,  and  sorrow 
in  it;  con  daily  lessons  of  strength  and  patience 
there ;  shine  like  a  star  on  the  face  of  the  darkest 
night  over  it,  and  tenderly  rear  the  children  it  shall 
give  you  in  it.  High  on  a  pinnacle,  above  all  earthly 
grandeur,  all  gaudy  glitter,  all  fancied  ambitions,  set 
the  home  interests.  Feed  the  mind  in  it ;  feed  the 
soul  in  it ;  strengthen  the  love,  and  charity,  and  truth, 
and  all  holy  and  good  things  within  it ! 

When  young  persons  marry,  even  with  the  fairest 
prospects,  they  should  never  forget  that  infirmity  is 
inseparably  bound  up  with  their  very  nature,  and  that, 
in  bearing  one  another's  burdens,  they  fulfill  one  of 
the  highest  duties  of  the  union.  Love  in  marriage 
cannot  live  nor  subsist  unless  it  be  mutual ;  and  where 
love  cannot  be,  there  can  be  left  of  wedlock  nothing 
but  the  empty  husk  of  an  outside  matrimony,  as 
undelightful  and  unpleasing  to  God  as  any  other  kind 
of  hypocrisy. 

We  have  all  seen  the  trees  die  in  summer  time. 
But  the  tree  with  its  whispering  leaves  and  swinging 
limbs,  its  greenness,  its  umbrage,  where  the  shadows 
lie  hidden  all  the  day,  does  not  die.  First  a  dimness 
creeps  over  its  brightness ;  next  a  leaf  sickens  here 
and  there,  and  pales ;  then  a  whole  bough  feels  the 
palsying  touch  of  coming  death,  and  finally  the  feeble 
signs  of  sickly  life,  visible  here  and  there,  all  disap- 
pear, and  the  dead  trunk  holds  out  its  stripped,  stark 
limbs,  a  melancholy  ruin.  Just  so  does  wedded  love 
sometimes  die.  Wedded  love,  girdled  by  the  bless- 


474  HUSBAND    AND    WIFE. 

ings  of  friends,  hallowed  by  the  sanction  of  God,  rosy 
with  present  joys,  and  radiant  with  future  hopes,  it 
dies  not  all  at  once.  A  hasty  word  casts  a  shadow 
upon  it,  and  the  shadow  darkens  with  the  sharp  reply. 
A  little  thoughtlessness  misconstrued,  a  little  unin- 
tentional neglect  deemed  real,  a  little  word  misinter- 
preted, through  such  small  avenues  the  devil  of 
discord  gains  admittance  to  the  heart,  and  then 
welcomes  ail  his  infernal  progeny.  The  presence  of 
something  malicious  is  felt,  but  not  acknowledged ; 
love  becomes  reticent,  confidence  is  chilled,  and 
noiselessly  but  surely  the  work  of  separation  goes  on, 
until  the  two  are  left  as  isolated  as  the  pyramids  — 
nothing  left  of  the  union  but  the  legal  form  —  the 
dead  trunk  of  the  tree,  whose  branches  once  tossed 
in  the  bright  sunlight,  and  whose  sheltering  leaves 
trembled  with  the  music  of  singing  birds  now  affords 
no  shade  for  the  traveler. 

There  are  two  classes  of  disappointed  lovers  — 
those  who  are  disappointed  before  marriage,  and  the 
more  unhappy  ones  who  are  disappointed  after  it. 
To  be  deprived  of  a  person  we  love  is  a  happiness 
in  comparison  of  living  with  one  we  hate. 


awl 


SOME  writer  asserts  that,  "a  French  woman  will 

love  her  husband  if  he  is  either  witty  or  chivalrous  ; 

"^  German  woman,  if  he  is  constant  and  faithful  ;  a 


HUSBAND    AND    WIFE.  475 

Dutch  woman  if  he  does  not  disturb  her  ease  and 
comfort  too  much ;  a  Spanish  woman,  if  he  wreaks 
vengeance  on  those  who  incur  his  displeasure ;  an 
Italian  woman,  if  he  is  dreamy  and  poetical ;  a  Danish 
woman,  if  he  thinks  that  her  native  country  is  the 
brightest  and  happiest  on  earth ;  a  Russian  woman  if 
he  despises  all  westeners  as  miserable  barbarians ; 
an  English  woman  if  he  succeeds  in  ingratiating 
himself  with  the  court  and  the  aristocracy ;  an  Amer- 
ican woman,  if — he  has  plenty  of  money." 

In  the  true  wife  the  husband  finds  not  affection 
only,  but  companionship  —  a  companionship  with 
which  no  other  can  compare.  The  family  relation 
gives  retirement  with  solitude,  and  society  without 
the  rough  intrusion  of  the  world.  It  plants  in  the 
husband's  dwelling  a  friend  who  can  bear  his  silence 
without  weariness ;  who  can  listen  to  the  details  of 
his  interests  with  sympathy ;  who  can  appreciate  his 
repetition  of  events  only  important  as  they  are  em- 
balmed in  the  heart.  Common  friends  are  linked  to 
us  by  a  slender  thread.  We  must  retain  them  by 
ministering  in  some  way  to  their  interest  or  their 
enjoyment.  What  a  luxury  it  is  for  a  man  to  feel 
that  in  his  home  there  is  a  true  and  affectionate  being, 
in  whose  presence  he  may  throw  off  restraint  without 
danger  to  his  dignity ;  he  may  confide  without  fear  of 
treachery ;  and  be  sick  or  unfortunate  without  being 
abandoned.  If,  in  the  outer  world,  he  grows  weary 
of  human  selfishness,  his  heart  can  safely  trust  in  one 
whose  indulgences  overlook  his  defects. 

The  treasure  of  a  wife's  affection,  like  the  grace  of 


476  HUSBAND    AND    WIFE. 

God,  is  given,  not  bought.  Gold  is  power.  It  can 
sweep  down  forests,  raise  cities,  build  roads  and  deck 
houses.  It  can  collect  troops  of  flatterers,  and  inspire 
awe  and  fear.  But  alas !  wealth  can  never  purchase 
love.  Bonaparte  essayed  the  subjugation  of  Europe, 
under  the  influence  of  a  genius  almost  inspired;  an 
ambition  insatiable,  and  backed  by  millions  of  armed 
men.  He  almost  succeeded  in  swaying  his  sceptre 
from  the  Straits  of  Dover  to  the  Mediterranean ;  from 
the  Bay  of  Biscay  to  the  sea  of  Azoff.  On  many  a 
bloody  field  his  banner  floated  triumphantly.  But 
the  greatest  conquest  was  the  unbought  heart  of 
Josephine  ;  his  sweetest  and  most  priceless  treasure 
her  outraged  but  unchanged  love.  If  any  man  has 
failed  to  estimate  the  affection  of  a  true-hearted  wife, 
he  will  be  likely  to  mark  the  value  in  his  loss  when 
the  heart  that  loved  him  is  stilled  by  death. 

Is  man  the  child  of  sorrow,  and  do  afflictiors  and 
distresses  pour  their  bitterness  into  his  cup  ?  How  are 
his  trials  alleviated,  his  sighs  suppressed,  his  corrod- 
ing thoughts  dissipated,  his  anxieties  and  pains 
relieved,  his  gldom  and  depression  chased  away  by 
her  cheerfulness  and  love.  Is  he  overwhelmed  by 
disappointment,  and  mortified  by  reproaches  ?  There 
is  one  who  can  hide  her  eyes  even  from  his  faults, 
and  who,  like  her  Father  who  is  in  heaven,  can  for- 
give and  love  "without  upbraiding."  And  when  he 
is  sickened  by  the  subtleties  and  deception  of  the 
world ;  when  the  acrimony  of  men  has  made  him 
acrimonious ;  when  he  becomes  dissatisfied  with  him- 
self, and  all  around  him,  her  pleasant  smile,  her 


HUSBAND    AND    WIFE.  4/77 

undissembled  tenderness,  her  artless  simplicity,  "re- 
store him  to  himself,  and  spread  serenity  and  sweet- 
ness over  his  mind." 

Nothing-  is  more  annoying  than  that  display  of 
affection  which  some  husbands  and  wives  show  to 
each  other  in  society.  That  familiarity  of  touch, 
those  half-concealed  caresses,  those  absurd  names, 
that  prodigality  of  endearing  epithets,  that  devoted 
attention  which  they  flaunt  in  the  face  of  the  public 
as  a  kind  of  challenge  to  the  world  at  large,  to  come 
and  admire  their  happiness,  is  always  noticed  and 
laughed  at.  Yet  to  some  women  this  parade  of  love 
is  the  very  essence  of  married  happiness,  and  part  of 
their  dearest  privileges.  They  believe  themselves 
admired  and  envied,  when  they  are  ridiculed  and 
scoffed  at;  and  they  think  their  husbands  are  models 
for  other  men  to  copy,  when  they  are  taken  as 
examples  for  all  to  avoid.  Men  who  have  any  real 
manliness,  however,  do  not  give  in  to  this  kind  of 
thing;  though  there  are  some  as  effeminate  and 
gushing  as  women  themselves,  who  like  this  sloppy 
effusiveness  of  love,  and  carry  it  on  to  quite  old  age, 
fondling  the  ancient  grandmother  with  gray  hairs  as 
lavishly  as  they  fondled  the  youthful  bride,  and  seeing 
no  want  of  harmony  in  calling  a  withered  old  dame 
of  sixty  and  upwards  by  the  pet  names  by  which  they 
had  called  her  when  she  was  a  snip  of  a  girl  of 
eighteen.  This  public  display  of  familiar  affection  is 
never  seen  among  men  who  pride  themselves  on 
making  good  lovers,  as  certain  men  do ;  those  who 
have  reduced  the  practice  of  love-making  to  an  art,  a 


478  HUSBAND    AND    WIFE. 

science,  and  know  their  lesson  to  a  letter.  These 
men  are  delightful  to  women,  who  like  nothing  so 
much  as  being  made  love  to,  as  well  after  marriage 
as  before ;  but  men  who  take  matters  quietly,  and 
rely  on  the  good  sense  of  their  wives  to  take  matters 
quietly,  too,  sail  round  these  scientific  adorers  for 
both  depth  and  manliness. 

Books  addressed  to  young  married  people  abound 
with  advice  to  the  wife  to  control  her  temper,  and 
never  to  utter  wearisome  complaints  or  vexatious 
words  when  the  husband  comes  home  fretful  or  un- 
reasonable from  his  out-of-door  conflicts  with  the 
world.  Would  not  the  advice  be  as  excellent  and 
appropriate,  if  the  husband  were  advised  to  conquer 
his  fretfulness,  and  forbear  his  complaints,  in  consid- 
eration of  his  wife's  ill-health,  fatiguing  cares,  and 
the  thousand  disheartening  influences  of  domestic 
routine?  In  short,  whatsoever  can  be  named  as 
loveliest,  best,  and  most  graceful  in  woman,  would 
likewise  be  good  and  graceful  in  man. 

O  husbands !  think  upon  your  duty.  You  who 
have  taken  a  wife  from  a  happy  home  of  kindred 
hearts  and  kind  companionship,  have  you  given  to 
her  all  of  your  time  which  you  could  spare,  have  you 
endeavored  to  make  amends  to  her  for  the  loss  of 
these  friends?  Have  you  joined  with  her  in  her 
endeavors  to  open  the  minds  of  your  children,  and 
give  them  good  moral  lessons  ?  Have  you  strength- 
ened her  mind  with  advice,  kindness,  and  good  books  ? 
Have  you  spent  your  evenings  with  her  in  the  culti- 
vation of  intellectual,  moral,  or  social  excellence? 


HUSBAND    AND    WIFE.  479 

Have  you  looked  upon  her  as  an  immortal  being,  as 
well  as  yourself? 

There  is  a  picture,  bright  and  beautiful,  but  never- 
theless true,  where  hearts  are  united  for  mutual 
happiness  and  mutual  improvement;  where  a  kind 
voice  cheers  the  wife  in  her  hour  of  trouble,  and 
where  the  shade  of  anxiety  is  chased  from  the  hus- 
band's brow  as  he  enters  his  home ;  where  sickness 
is  soothed  by  watchful  love,  and  hope  and  faith  burn 
brightly.  For  such  there  is  a  great  reward,  both 
here  and  hereafter,  in  their  own  and  their  families' 
spiritual  happiness  and  growth,  and  in  the  blessed 
scenes  of  the  world  of  spirits. 

And,  wives  !  do  you  also  consult  the  tastes  and 
dispositions  of  your  husbands,  and  endeavor  to  give 
to  them  high  and  noble  thoughts,  lofty  aims,  and 
temporal  comfort.  Be  ready  to  welcome  them  to 
their  homes,  gradually  draw  their  thoughts  while 
with  you  from  business,  and  lead  them  to  the  regions 
of  the  beautiful  in  art  and  nature,  and  the  true  and 
divine  in  sentiment.  Foster  a  love  of  the  elegant 
and  refined,  and  gradually  will  you  see  business, 
literature,  and  high  moral  culture  blending  in  "sweet 
accord." 

Before  marriage,  a  young  man  would  feel  some 
delicacy  about  accepting  an  invitation  to  spend  an 
evening  in  company  where  his  "ladye  love"  had  not 
been  invited.  After  marriage,  is  he  always  as  partic- 
ular? During  the  days  of  courtship,  his  gallantry 
would  demand  that  he  should  make  himself  agreeable 
to  her ;  after  marriage,  it  often  happens  that  he  thinks 


480  HUSBAND    AND    WIFE. 

more  of  being  agreeable  to  himself.  How  often  it 
happens  that  a  married  man,  after  having  be~n  away 
from  home  the  livelong  day,  during  which  the  wife 
has  toiled  at  her  duties,  goes  at  evening  again  to  some 
place  of  amusement,  and  leaves  her  to  toil  on  alone, 
uncheered  and  unhappy !  How  often  it  happens  that 
her  kindest  offices  pass  unobserved,  and  unrewarded 
even  by  a  smile,  and  her  best  efforts  are  condemned 
by  the  fault-finding  husband  !  How  often  it  happens, 
even  when  the  evening  is  spent  at  home,  that  it  is 
employed  in  silent  reading,  or  some  other  way,  that 
does  not  recognize  the  wife's  right  to  share  in  the 
enjoyments  even  of  the  fireside  ! 

Look,  ye  husbands,  for  a  moment,  and  remember 
what  your  wife  was  when  you  took  her,  not  from 
compulsion,  but  from  your  own  choice ;  a  choice 
based,  probably,  on  what  you  then  considered  her 
superiority  to  all  others.  She  was  young — perhaps 
the  idol  of  her  happy  home ;  she  was  gay  and  blithe 
as  the  lark,  and  the  brothers  and  sisters  at  her 
father's  fireside  cherished  her  as  an  object  of  endear- 
ment. Yet  she  left  all  to  join  her  destiny  with  yours, 
to  make  your  home  happy,  and  to  do  all  that  woman's 
ingenuity  could  devise  to  meet  your  wishes  and  to 
lighten  the  burdens  which  might  press  upon  you. 

The  good  wife !  How  much  of  this  world's  happi- 
ness and  prosperity  is  contained  in  the  compass  of 
these  short  words !  Her  influence  is  immense.  The 
power  of  a  wife,  for  good  or  for  evil,  is  altogether 
irresistible.  Home  must  be  the  seat  of  happiness,  or 
it  must  be  forever  unknown.  A  good  wife  is  to  a 


HUSBAND    AND    WIFE. 


man  wisdom,  and  courage,  and  strength,  and  hope, 
and  endurance.  A  bad  one  is  confusion,  weakness, 
discomfiture,  despair.  No  condition  is  hopeless  when 
the  wife  possesses  firmness,  decision,  energy,  econ- 
omy. There  is  no  outward  prosperity  which  can 
counteract  indolence,  folly,  and  extravagance  at  home. 
No  spirit  can  long  resist  bad  domestic  influences. 
Man  is  strong,  but  his  heart  is  not  adamant.  He 
delights  in  enterprise  and  action,  but  to  sustain  him 
he  needs  a  tranquil  mind  and  a  whole  heart.  He 
expends  his  whole  moral  force  in  the  conflicts  of  the 
world.  His  feelings  are  daily  lacerated  to  the  utmost 
point  of  endurance  by  perpetual  collision,  irritation, 
and  disappointment. 

Let  woman  know,  then,  that  she  ministers  at  the 
very  fountain  of  life  and  happiness.  It  is  her  hand 
that  lades  out  with  overflowing  cup  its  soul-refreshing 
waters,  or  casts  in  the  branch  of  bitterness  which 
makes  them  poison  and  death.  Her  ardent  spirit 
breathes  the  breath,  of  life  into  all  enterprise.  Her 
patience  and  constancy  are  mainly  instrumental  in 
carrying  forward  to  completion  the  best  human  de- 
signs. Her  more  delicate  moral  sensibility  is  the 
unseen  power  which  is  ever  at  work  to  purify  and 
refine  society.  And  the  nearest  glimpse  of  heaven 
that  mortals  ever  get  on  earth  is  that  domestic  circle 
which  her  hands  have  trained  to  intelligence,  virtue, 
and  love,  which  her  gentle  influence  pervades,  and 
of  which  her  radiant  presence  is  the  centre  and  the 
sun. 

Watching    those  on  the  sidewalk    on  the  way  to 

3* 


482  HUSBAND    AND    WIFE. 

labor,  we  thought  we  could  read  a  great  deal  of  the 
homelife  of  each  in  the  passing  glance  we  gave  as 
they  went  hurrying  by.  Here  was  one  whose  cloth- 
ing was  ragged  and  neglected,  and  on  his  face  a  hard, 
dissatisfied  expression.  It  was  easy  to  see  there  was 
no  hope  in  his  heart ;  that  he  went  to  his  task  as  if 
it  were  a  penalty  imposed  for  crime,  and  that  no 
pleasant  and  loving  home  cheered  him  at  the  evening 
and  lifted  from  his  heart  the  clouds  that  darkened  his 
life.  It  is  a  terrible  thing  when  the  home  of  the  poor 
lacks  love  —  the  only  agency  which  can  lighten  its 
burdens  and  make  it  hopeful  and  happy. 

Beside  him  walks  another — no  better,  but  much 
cleanlier  clad,  and  the  broad  patches  of  his  blue  over- 
alls art  cleanly  put  on  and  not  fringed  with  ragged 
•edges.  He  has  a  home,  you  can  see  that  at  once, 
.and,  humble  as  it  may  be,  there  is  a  woman  who  is 
.his  confidante  as  well  as  his  wife,  and,  together,  they 
plan  how  to  use  their  little  means  and  increase  their 
little  store  of  comforts.  They  have  ambition,  and 
.ambition  to  improve  one's  condition  never  fails  to 
give  force  to  character  and  something  of  dignity  and 
worth  of  life. 

Last  of  all,  though  this  consideration  be  not  the 
least  of  all,  let  it  be  remembered  that  the  husband  is 
bound  by  the  divine  law  to  treat  his  wife  as  an 
immortal  being,  and,  therefore,  to  have  regard  to  her 
moral  and  spiritual  welfare.  Can  any  man  have  a 
just  sense  of  the  truth  that  the  partner  of  his  heart, 
the  sharer  of  his  fortunes,  whose  earthly  destiny  is 
so  closely  linked  with  his  own,  is,  like  himself,  an 


J°Y-  483 

immortal  spirit ;  that,  after  the  scenes  of  time  shall 
all  have  vanished  from  her  view  like  a  gorgeous 
dream,  she  must  enter  upon  those  brighter  ones  that 
shall  be  forever  expanding  in  beatific  splendor,  or 
else,  if  unprepared  for  them,  must  dwell  in  those 
gloomy  realms  which  our  Savior  describes  as  "the 
outer  darkness"  of  banishment  from  God  and  happi- 
ness, and  yet  cherish  no  lively  interest  in  her  educa- 
tion for  the  society  of  heaven  ?  In  that  remarkable 
hour  that  witnessed  the  formation  of  the  marriage 
union,  the  era  of  separation  was  anticipated  by  the 
solemn  vow  which  his  lips  then  uttered,  that  he  would 
cherish  the  object  of  his  choice  as  "the  wife  of  his 
covenant"  in  wedded  love  "till  death  should  them 
part." 


JOY  is  a  prize  unbought,  and  is  freest,  purest  in 
its  flow  when  it  comes  unsought.  No  getting  into 
heaven  as  a  place  will  compass  it.  You  must  carry 
it  with  you,  else  it  is  not  there.  You  must  have  it  in 
you  as  the  music  of  a  well-ordered  soul,  the  fire  of  a 
holy  purpose.  An  unchanging  state  of  joy  is  not 
possible  on  earth  as  it  now  is,  because  evil  and  error 
are  here.  The  soul  must  have  its  midnight  hour  as 
well  as  its  sunlight  seasons  of  joy  and  gladness.  Still 
the  mercy  of  the  Lord  is  shown  as  much  in  the  night 
as  in  the  day.  It  is  only  in  the  night  that  we  can  see 


484  JOY. 

the  stars.  The  noblest  spirits,  however,  are  those 
which  turn  to  heaven,  not  in  the  hour  of  sorrow,  but 
in  that  of  joy ;  like  the  lark,  they  wait  for  the  clouds 
to  disperse,  that  they  may  soar  up  into  their  native 
element. 

He  who  selfishly  hoards  his  joys,  thinking  thus  to 
increase  them,  is  like  a  man  who  looks  at  his  granary, 
and  says,  "Not  only  will  I  protect  my  grain  from  mice 
and  birds,  but  neither  the  ground  nor  the  mill  shall 
have  it."  And  so,  in  the  spring,  he  walks  around  his 
little  pit  of  corn,  and  exclaims,  "How  wasteful  are 
my  neighbors,  throwing  away  whole  handfuls  of 
grain!"  But  autumn  comes;  and,  while  he  has  only 
his  few  poor  bushels,  their  fields  are  yellow  with  an 
abundant  harvest.  "There  is  that  that  scattereth 
and  yet  increaseth." 

Wordly  joy  is  like  the  songs  which  peasants  sing, 
full  of  melodies  and  sweet  airs.  Christian  joy  has 
its  sweet  airs  too ;  but  they  are  augmented  to  harmo- 
nies, so  that  he  who  has  it  goes  to  heaven,  not  to  the 
voice  of  a  single  flute,  but  to  that  of  a  whole  band  of 
instruments,  discoursing  wondrous  music.  Those 
who  joy  in  wealth  grow  avaricious ;  those  who  joy  in 
their  friends  too  often  lose  nobility  of  spirit ;  those 
who  joy  in  sensuousness  lose  dignity  of  character; 
those  who  j<py  in  literature  ofttimes  become  pedantic ; 
but  those  who  joy  in  liberty  —  i.  e.,  that  all  should  do 
as  they  would  be  done  by  —  possess  the  happiest  of 
Joys.  It  is  a  solid  joy  no  one  can  barter  away.  Ex- 
ceedingly few  possess  it. 

He  who  to  the  best  of  his  power  has  secured  the 


J°Y- 

fin^l  stake,  has  a  perennial  fountain  of  joy  within  him. 
He  is  satisfied  from  himself.  They,  his  reverse,  bor- 
row all  from  without.  Joy  wholly  from  without  is 
false,  precarious,  and  short.  From  without  it  may 
je  gathered ;  but,  like  gathered  flowers,  though  fair 
and  sweet  for  a  season,  it  must  soon  wither  and 
become  offensive.  Joy  from  within  is  like  smelling 
the  rose  on  the  tree.  It  is  more  sweet  and  fair  —  it  is 
lasting ;  and,  we  must  add,  immortal.  Happy  are  the 
moments  when  sorrow  forgets  its  cares,  and  misery 
its  misfortunes ;  when  peace  and  gladness  spring  up 
upon  the  radiant  wings  of  hope,  and  the  light  of  con- 
tentment dawns  once  more  upon  the  disconsolate, 
unfortunate,  and  unhappy  heart,-- 

"  The  past  unsighed  for,  and  the  future  sure." 

There  is  in  this  world  continual  interchange  o< 
pleasing  and  greeting  accidents,  still  keeping  their 
succession  of  times,  and  overtaking  each  other  in 
their  several  courses ;  no  picture  can  be  all  drawn  of 
the  brightest  colors,  nor  a  harmony  consorted  only  of 
trebles ;  shadows  are  needful  in  expressing  of  propor- 
tions, and  the  bass  is  a  principle  part  in  perfect  music ; 
the  condition  here  allows  no  unmeddled  joy;  our 
whole  life  is  temperate  between  sweet  and  sour,  and 
we  must  all  look  for  a  mixture  of  both :  the  wise  so 
wish :  better  that  they  still  think  of  worse,  accepting 
the  one  if  it  come  with  liking,  and  bearing  the  other 
without  impatience,  being  so  much  masters  of  each 
other's  fortunes,  that  neither  shall  work  them  to 
excess.  The  dwarf  grows  not  on  the  highest  hill,  the 


486  BEAUTY. 

tall  man  loses  not  his  height  in  the  lowest  valley; 
and  as  a  base  mind,  though  most  at  ease,  will  be 
dejected,  so  a  resolute  virtue  in  the  deepest  distress  is 
most  impregnable. 

There  are  joys  which  long  to  be  ours.  God  sends 
ten  thousand  truths,  which  come  about  us  like  birds 
seeking  inlet;  but  we  are  shut  up  to  them,  and  so 
they  bring  us  nothing,  but  sit  and  sing  awhile  upon 
the  roof  and  then 'fly  away. 


"Beauty  !  thou  pretty  plaything  !  dear  deceit! 
That  steals  so  softly  o'er  the  stripling's  heart, 
And  gives  it  a  new  pulse  unknown  before." 

WE  doubt  not  that  God  is  a  lover  of  beauty.  He 
fashioned  the  worlds  in  beauty,  when  there  was  no 
eye  to  behold  them  but  His  own.  All  along  the  wild 
old  forest  He  has  carved  the  forms  of  beauty.  Every 
cliff,  and  mountain,  and  tree  is  a  statue  of  beauty. 
Every  leaf,  and  stem,  and  vine,  and  flower  is  a  form 
of  beauty.  Every  hill,  and  dale,  and  landscape  is  a 
picture  of  beauty.  Every  cloud,  and  mist-wreath,  and 
vapor-veil  is  a  shadowy  reflection  of  beauty.  Every 
diamond,  and  rock,  and  pebbly  beach  is  a  mine  of 
beauty.  Every  sun,  and  planet,  and  star  is  a  blazing 
face  of  beauty.  All  along  the  aisles  of  earth,  all  over 
the  arches  of  heaven,  all  through  the  expanses  of  the 
universe,  are  scattered  in  rich  and  infinite  profusion 


BEAUTY. 


487 


the  life-gems  of  beauty.  All  this  great  realm  of 
dazzling  and  bewildering  beauty  was  made  by  God. 
Shall  we  say,  then,  He  is  not  a  lover  of  beauty  ? 

There  is  beauty  in  the  songsters  of  the  air.  The 
symmetry  of  their  bodies,  the  wing  so  light  and  expert 
in  fanning  the  breeze,  the  graceful  neck  and  head, 
their  tiny  feet  and  legs,  all  so  well  fitted  for  their 
native  element,  and  more  than  this,  their  sweet  notes 
that  awaken  delight  in  every  heart  that  loves  to 
rejoice.  Who  can  range  the  sunny  fields  and  shady 
forests  on  a  bright  summer's  day,  and  listen  to  the 
melody  of  a  thousand  voices  chanting  their  Maker's 
praise,  and  not  feel  the  soul  melt  with  joy  and  grati- 
tude for  such  refreshing  scenes  ?  The  universe  is  its 
temple ;  and  those  men  who  are  alive  to  it  cannot  lift 
their  eyes  without  feeling  themselves  encompassed 
with  it  on  every  side.  Now  this  beauty  is  so  precious, 
the  enjoyments  it  gives  are  so  refined  and  pure,  so 
congenial  with  our  tenderest  and  noblest  feelings, 
and  so  akin  to  worship,  that  it  is  painful  to  think  of 
the  multitude  of  men  as  living  in  the  midst  of  it,  and 
living  almost  as  blind  to  it  as  if,  instead  of  this  fair 
earth  and  glorious  sky,  they  were  tenants  of  a  dun- 
geon. An  infinite  joy  is  lost  to  the  world  by  the  want 
of  culture  of  this  spiritual  endowment. 

The  highest  style  of  beauty  to  be  found  in  nature 
pertains  to  the' human  form,  as  animated  and  lighted 
up  by  the  intelligence  within.  It  is  the  expression  of 
the  soul  that  constitutes  this  superior  beauty.  It  is 
that  which  looks  out  at  the  eye,  which  sits  in  calm 
majesty  on  the  brow,  lurks  on  the  lip,  smiles  on  the 


488  BEAUTY. 

cheek,  is  set  forth  in  the  chiseled  lines  and  features  of 
the  countenance,  in  the  general  contour  of  figure  and 
form,  in  the  movement,  and  gesture,  and  tone ;  it  is 
this  looking  out  of  the  invisible  spirit  that  dwells 
within,  this  manifestation  of  the  higher  nature,  that 
we  admire  and  love ;  this  constitutes  to  us  the  beauty 
of  our  species.  Hence  it  is  that  certain  features,  not 
in  themselves  particularly  attractive,  wanting,  it  may 
be,  in  certain  regularity  of  outline,  or  in  certain  deli- 
cacy and  softness,  are  still  invested  in  a  peculiar  charm 
and  radiance  of  beauty  from  their  peculiar  expressive- 
ness and  animation.  The  light  of  genius,  the  supe- 
rior glow  of  sympathy,  and  a  noble  heart,  play  upon 
those  plain,  and  it  may  be,  homely  features,  and  light 
them  up  with  a  brilliant  and  regal  beauty.  Those,  as 
every  artist  knows,  are  the  most  difficult  to  portray. 
The  expression  changes  with  the  instant.  Beauty 
flashes,  and  is  gone,  or  gives  place  to  a  still  higher 
beauty,  as  the  light  that  plays  in  fitful  corruscations 
along  the  Northern  sky,  coming  and  going,  but  never 
still. 

We  would  now  dwell  upon  the  beauty  of  spirit, 
soul,  mind,  heart,  life.  There  is  a  beauty  which  per- 
ishes not.  It  is  such  as  the  angels  wear.  It  forms 
the  washed  white  robes  of  the  saints.  It  wreathes 
the  countenance  of  every  doer  of  good.  It  adorns 
every  honest,  face.  It  shines  in  the  virtiwus  life.  It 
molds  the  hands  of  charity.  It  sweetens  the  voice 
of  sympathy.  It  sparkles  on  the  brow  of  wisdom. 
It  flashes  in  the  eye  of  love.  It  breathes  in  the  spirit 
,  of  piety.  It  is  the  beauty  of  the  heaven  of  heavens. 


BEAUTY.  439 

It  is  that  which  may  grow  by  the  hand  of  culture  in 
every  human  soul.  It  is  the  flower  of  the  spirit  which 
blossoms  on  the  tree  of  life.  Every  soul  may  plant 
and  nurture  it  in  its  own  garden,  in  its  own  Eden. 
This  is  the  capacity  for  beauty  that  God  has  given  to 
the  human  soul,  and  this  the  beauty  placed  within  the 
•reach  of  us  all.  We  may  all  be  beautiful.  Though 
our  forms  may  be  uncomely  and  our  features  not  the 
prettiest,  our  spirits  may  be  beautiful.  And  this 
inward  beauty  always  shines  through.  A  beautiful 
heart  will  flash  out  in  the  eye.  A  lovely  soul  will 
glow  in  the  face.  A  sweet  spirit  will  tune  the  voice, 
wreathe  the  countenance  in  charms.  Oh,  there  is 
a  power  in  interior  beauty  that  melts  the  hardest 
heart ! 

Woman,  by  common  consent,  we  regard  as  the 
most  perfect  type  of  beauty  on  earth.  To  her  we 
ascribe  the  highest  charms  belonging  to  this  wonder- 
ful element  so  profusely  mingled  in  all  God's  works. 
Her  form  is  molded  and  finished  in  exquisite  delicacy 
of  perfection.  The  earth  gives  us  no  form  more  per- 
fect, no  features  more  symmetrical,  no  style  more 
chaste,  no  movements  more  graceful,  no  finish  more 
complete ;  so  that  our  artists  ever  have  and  ever  will 
regard  the  woman -form  of  humanity  as  the  most  per- 
fect earthly  type  of  beauty.  This  form  is  most  per- 
fect and  symmetrical  in  the  youth  of  womanhood ;  so 
that  youthful  woman  is  earth's  queen  of  beauty. 
This  is  true,  not  only  by  the  common  consent  of 
mankind,  but  also  by  the  strictest  rules  of  scientific 
criticism. 


490  BEAUTY. 

This  being  an  admitted  fact,  woman,  and  especially 
youthful  woman,  is  laid  under  strong-  obligations  and 
exposed  to  great  temptations.  Beauty  has  wonderful 
charms  —  a  charming  gift  of  pleasure.  Beauty  will 
not  only  win  for  her  admiring  eyes,  but  it  will  win  her 
favor ;  it  will  draw  hearts  toward  her ;  it  will  awaken 
tender  and  agreeable  feelings  in  her  behalf;  it  will 
disarm  the  stranger  of  the  peculiar  prejudices  he  often 
has  toward  those  he  knows  not ;  it  will  pave  the  way 
to  esteem  ;  it  will  weave  the  links  to  friendship's  chain  ; 
it  will  throw  an  air  of  agreeableness  into  the  manners 
of  all  who  approach  her.  All  this  her  beauty  will  do 
for  her  before  she  puts  forth  a  single  effort  of  her 
own  to  win  the  esteem  and  love  of  her  fellows. 

Socrates  called  beauty  a  short-lived  tyranny  ;  Plato, 
a  privilege  of  nature ;  Theophrastus,  a  silent  cheat; 
Theocritus,  a  delightful  prejudice  ;  Cameades,  a  soli- 
tary kingdom ;  Domitian  said,  that  nothing  was  more 
grateful ;  Aristotle  affirmed,  that  beauty  was  better 
than  all  the  letters  of  recommendation  in  the  world ; 
Homer,  that  it  was  a  glorious  gift  of  nature ;  and 
Ovid  calls  it  a  favor  bestowed  by  the  gods.  But,  as 
regards  the  elements  of  beauty  in  women,  it  is  not 
too  much  to  say  that  no  woman  can  be  beautiful  by 
force  of  features  alone ;  there  must  be  as  well  sweet- 
ness and  beauty  of  soul.  Beauty  has  been  called 
"the  power  and  aims  of  woman."  Diogenes  called 
it  "woman's  most  forcible  letter  of  recommendation." 
Cameades  represented  it,  "a  queen  without  soldiers;" 
and  Theocritus  says  it  is  "a  serpent  covered  with 
flowers;"  while  a  modern  author  defines  it  "a  bait 


P.EAUTV. 


that  as  often  catches  the  fisher  as  the  fish."  Nearly 
all  the  old  philosophers  denounced  and  ridiculed 
beauty  as  evanescent,  worthless  and  mischievous  ; 
but,  alas  !  while  they  preached  against  it  they  were 
none  the  less  its  slaves.  None  of  them  were  able  to 
withstand  "the  sly,  smooth  witchcraft  of  a  fair  young- 
face."  A  really  beautiful  woman  is  a  natural  queen 
in  the  universe  of  love,  where  all  hearts  pay  a  glad 
tribute  to  her  reign. 

Nothing  is  all  dark.  There  cannot  be  a  picture 
without  its  bright  spots  ;  and  the  steady  contempla- 
tion of  what  is  bright  in  others,  has  a  reflex  influence 
upon  the  beholder.  It  reproduces  what  it  reflects. 
Nay,  it  seems  to  leave  an  impress  even  upon  the 
countenance.  The  feature,  from  having  a  dark,  sin- 
ister aspect,  becomes  open,  serene,  and  sunny.  A 
countenance  so  impressed,  has  neither  the  vacant 
stare  of  the  idiot,  nor  the  crafty,  penetrating  look  of 
the  basilisk,  but  the  clear  placid  aspect  of  truth  and 
goodness.  The  woman  who  has  such  a  face  is  beau- 
tiful. She  has  a  beauty  which  changes  not  with  the 
features,  which  fades  not  with  years.  It  is  beauty  of 
expression.  It  is  the  only  kind  of  beauty  which  can 
be  relied  upon  for  a  permanent  influence  with  the 
other  sex.  The  violet  will  soon  cease  to  smile. 
Flowers  must  fade.  The  love  that  has  nothing  but 
beauty  to  sustain  it  soon  withers  away.  A  pretty 
woman  pleases  the  eye  ;  a  good  woman,  the  heart. 
The  one  is  a  jewel,  the  other  a  treasure.  Invincible 
fidelity,  good  humor,  and  complacency  of  temper, 
outlive  all  the  charms  of  a  fine  face,  and  make  the 


492  BEAUTY. 

decay  of  it  invisible.  That  is  true  beauty  which  has 
not  only  a  substance,  but  a  spirit ;  a  beauty  that  we 
must  intimately  know  to  justly  appreciate. 

Beauty  has  been  not  unaptly,  though  perhaps  rather 
vulgarly,  defined  as  "all  in  the  eye,"  since  it  addresses 
itself  solely  to  that  organ,  and  is  intrinsically  of  little 
value.  From  this  ephemeral  flower  spring  many  of 
the  ingredients  of  matrimonial  unhappiness.  It  is  a 
dangerous  gift  for  both  its  possessor  and  its  admirer. 
If  its  possession,  as  is  often  the  case,  turns  the  head, 
while  its  loss  sours  the  temper,  if  the  long  regret  of 
its  decay  outweighs  the  fleeting  pleasure  of  its  bloom, 
the  plain  should  pity  rather  than  envy  the  handsome. 
Beauty  of  countenance,  which,  being  the  light  of  the 
soul  shining  through  the  face,  is  independent  of  fea- 
1  ures  or  complexion,  is  the  most  attractive  as  well  as 
the  most  enduring  charm.  Nothing  but  talent  and 
amiability  can  bestow  it,  no  statue  or  picture  can  rival 
it,  and  time  itself  cannot  destroy  it. 

Man,  however,  is  not  the  highest  type  of  beauty; 
for  in  him,  as  in  all  things  on  earth,  is  mingled  along 
with  the  beauty  much  that  is  deformed — with  the 
excellence  much  imperfection.  We  can  conceive 
forms  superior  to  his  —  faces  radiant  with  a  beauty 
that  sin  has  never  darkened,  nor  passion  nor  sorrow 
dimmed.  We  can  conceive  forms  of  beauty  more 
perfect,  purer,  brighter,  loftier  than  anything  that 
human  eyes  have  ever  seen.  Imagination  fashions 
these  conceptions,  and  art  produces  them.  This,  the 
poet,  the  painter,  the  sculptor,  the  architect,  the  ora- 
tor, each  in  his  own  way,  is  ever  striving  to  do,  to 


MUSIC. 


493 


present,  under  sensible  forms,  the  ideal  of  a  more 
perfect  loveliness  and  excellence  than  the  actual  world 
affords.  This,  however,  cannot  be  done  successfully, 
as  perfection  of  beauty  dwells  alone  with  God. 


"  When  griping  grief  the  heart  doth  wound, 

And  doleful  dumps  the  mind  oppress, 
Then  music,  with  her  silver  sound, 
With  speedy  help  doth  lend  redress." 

OH,  the  rapturous  charm  of  music  !  What  power  it 
has  to  soften,  melt,  enchain  in  its  spirit-chords  of  sub- 
duing harmony  !  Truly  there  is  power  in  music ;  an 
almost  omnipotent  power.  It  will  tyrannize  over  the 
soul.  It  will  force  it  to  bow  down  and  worship,  it 
will  wring  adoration  from  it,  and  compel  the  heart  to- 
yield  its  treasures  of  love.  Every  emotion,  from  the 
most  reverent  devotion  to  the  wildest  gushes  of  frol- 
icsome joy  it  holds  subject  to  its  imperative  will.  It 
calls  the  religious  devotee  to  worship,  the  patriot  to 
his  country's  altar,  the  philanthropist  to  his  generous 
work,  the  freeman  to  the  temple  of  liberty,  the  friend 
to  the  altar  of  friendship,  the  lover  to  the  side  of  his 
beloved.  It  elevates,  empowers,  and  strengthens 
them  all.  The  human  soul  is  a  mighty  harp,  and  all 
its  strings  vibrate  to  the  gush  of  music. 

Who  does  not  know  the  softening  power  of  music, 
especially  the  music  of  the  human  voice  ?     It  is  like  the 


494  MUSIC. 

angel-whisperings  of  kind  words  in  the  hour  of 
trouble.  Who  can  be  angry  when  the  voice  of  love 
speaks  in  song?  Who  hears  the  harsh  voice  of  sel- 
fishness, and  brutalizing  passion,  when  music  gathers 
up  her  pearly  love-notes  to  salute  the  ear  with  a  stray 
song  of  paradise  ?  Sing  to  the  wicked  man,  sing  to 
the  disconsolate,  sing  to  the  sufferer,  sing  to  the  old, 
and  sing  to  the  children,  for  music  will  inspire  them 
all. 

The  human  voice  is  the  most  perfect  musical  instru- 
ment ever  made ;  and  well  it  might  be,  for  it  had  the 
most  skillful  maker.  The  voice  should  be  cultivated 
to  sing  the  tones  of  love  to  man  and  God.  Around 
the  fireside,  in  the  social  circle,  it  should  sing  the 
voice  of  love,  and  at  the  altar  of  God  it  should  pour 
forth  melodious  praise. 

How  sweet  does  it  make  the  worship  of  God  to 
have  the  reverent  emotions  poured  out  in  song ! 
How  early  should  children  he  taught  to  sing;  for 
what  is  sweeter  than  the  songs  of  innocent  childhood, 
so  refining,  so  refreshing,  so  suggestive  of  heaven  ? 
Music  sweetens  the  cup  of  bitterness,  softens  the 
hand  of  want,  lightens  the  burden  of  life,  makes  the 
heart  courageous,  and  the  soul  cheerfully  devout. 
Into  the  soul  of  childhood  and  youth  it  pours  a  tide 
of  redeeming  influence.  Its  first  and  direct  effect  is 
to  mentalize  the/musical  performer;  not  to  give  him 
knowledge,  nor  more  wisdom  in  the  practical,  busi 
ness  affairs  of  life,  but  to  stir  his  mental  being  to 
activity,  to  awaken  strong  emotions,  to  move  among 
the  powers  within  as  a  common  electrifier,  touching 


MUSIC. 


495 


here  with  tenderness,  there  with  energy,  now  with 
holy  aspiration,  and  anon  with  the  inspiring  thrill  of 
beauty.  It  breathes  like  a  miracle  of  inspiration 
through  the  soul,  to  elevate,  refine,  and  spiritualize. 
No  lethargy  can  exist  in  the  soul  that  is  pouring  forth 
a  tide  of  music  numbers.  Its  very  recesses  are  all 
astir.  Everything  within  becomes  active  ;  the  percep- 
tions acute,  the  affections  warm,  the  moral  sensibili- 
ties quick  and  sensitive.  When  we  think  how  much 
the  world  wants  awakening,  we  can  think  of  no  power 
better  calculated  to  do  it  than  that  which  dwells  in 
the  mysterious  melodies  of  music.  Let  every  body 
become  musicians  and  surely  they  would  become 
living  souls. 

Besides  music  being  powerful,  universal,  the  voice 
of  love,  and  the  type  of  the  infinite,  it  is  venerable 
for  its  age.  As  it  is  the  voice  of  God's  love,  we  know 
not  but  it  is  co-existent  with  His  being.  It  is  reason- 
able to  suppose  that  its  swelling  numbers  have  rolled 
and  made  heaven  vocal  with  its  strains  of  praise 
since  creation  dawned.  But  the  first  account  of  it  on 
record  was  at  the  laying  of  the  foundations  of  the 
earth,  when  the  "morning  stars,"  delighted  with  the 
promise  of  a  new  planet,  "sang  together,  and  all  the 
sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy."  As  soon  as  the  earth 
was  made,  its  rocky  spires  thrown  up,  its  forest  harps 
strung,  its  ocean -organs  tuned,  it  raised  its  everlasting 
anthem  to  swell  the  chorus  of  the  skies. 

Every  song  soothes  and  uolifts.  It  is  just  possible 
that  at  times  a  song  is  as  good  as  a  prayer.  Indeed 
a  song  of  the  pure  kind  recognized  in  Scripture,  is 


496  MUSIC. 

akin  to  a  petition,  which  it  is  also  in  the  spirit  of 
thanksgiving-.  The  "sweet  singer  of  Israel"  wedded 
his  sincerest  prayers  to  melody,  and  wafted  them 
upward  on  the  night  air  from  his  throbbing  heart.  In 
the  soul  that  has  been  touched  and  made  tender  by 
the  fingers  of  pain,  music  finds  a  place  where  it 
may  murmur  its  sweetest  chords. 

Music  is  healthful.  There  is  no  better  cure  for  bad 
humors,  and  no  medicine  more  pleasant  to  take.  We 
cannot  join  those  who  lament  that  the  piano  is  heard 
where  once  the  monotone  of  the  spinning-wheel,  and 
the  click  of  the  shuttle,  were  the  only  instrumental 
performances.  It  is  a  matter  of  rejoicing  rather  that 
muscles  of  iron  and  fingers  of  steel,  driven  by  the 
tireless  elements,  now  perform  the  laborious  work  of 
cloth  manufacture  and  give  leisure  to  cultivate 
refined  tastes  in  the  household.  Music  is  to  the  ear 
and  to  the  intellect  what  strawberries,  peaches,  an^1 
other  luscious  fruits,  are  to  the  taste.  Who  regrets 
that  the  forests  have  been  cleared,  the  walls  and 
fences  built,  the  grain  crops  made  sufficiently  easy  of 
cultivation,  to  allow  the  addition  of  the  fruit  yard  and 
garden  for  the  enjoyment  of  the  cultivator?  One 
of  the  greatest  attractions  for  old  and  young,  when 
visiting  our  cities,  is  the  music  that  may  be  heard  here. 
Why  should  the  farmer's  household  not  be  as  cheer- 
ful, as  full  of  pleasure,  as  that  of  the  merchant  or  the 
professional  man  ?  We  know  of  nothing  more  genial 
and  heart-warming  than  to  hear  the  whole  family 
joining  in  a  hymn  or  song.  They  will  love  each  other 
and  their  home  better  for  it.  Songs  learned  in 


MUSIC. 


497 


childhood  are  like  birds  nestling  in  the  bosom ;  their 
notes  will  be  heard  and  loved  in  after  years.  The 
hymn  sung  by  a 'mother  to  her  little  boy  may  in  after 
days  be  a  voice  that  will  recall  him  from  ruin. 

No  family  can  afford  to  do  without  music.  It  is  a 
luxury  and  an  economy ;  an  alleviator  of  sorrow,  and 
a  spring  of  enjoyment ;  a  protection  against  vice  and 
an  incitement  to  virtue.  When  rightly  used,  its 
effects,  physical,  intellectual  and  moral,  are  good,  very 
good,  and  only  good.  Make  home  attractive ;  music 
affords  a  means  of  doing  this.  Contribute  kindly 
feeling,  love.  Music  will  help  -in  this  work.  Keep 
out  angry  feeling.  "Music  hath  charms  to  soothe 
the  savage  breast."  Show  us  the  family  where  good 
music  is  cultivated,  where  the  parents  and  children 
are  accustomed  often  to  mingle  their  voices  together 
in  song,  and  we  will  show  you  one  where  peace, 
harmony  and  love  prevail,  and  where  the  great  vices 
have  no  abiding  place. 

One  morning  the  sweet  voice  of  a  woman  was 
heard  singing  a  ballad  in  one  of  the  tenement  house 
districts  of  the  Garden  City.  The  effect  of  it  was 
almost  magical.  Not  only  did  children  swarm  out  of 
their  dingy  homes  and  surround  the  singer,  but  the 
stoops  were  crowded  by  adults,  and  old  heads  leaned 
out  of  windows  for  several  blocks  on  either  side. 
Faces  brightened  everywhere.  The  blacksmith 
ceased  his  din  and  stood  with  arms  akimbo  on  the 
sidewalk.  The  poor,  sick  widow  in  a  near  tenement 
listened  and  forgot  her  sorrow  and  pain ;  the  broad- 
faced  wife  whose  stolid  countenance,  hardened  by 

12 


498  MUSIC. 

want  and  contact  with  vice,  paused  from  her  employ- 
ment, and  as  she  listened  something-  touched  her 
heart,  her  better  nature  was  stirred,  and  beating  time 
to  the  simple  melody,  wished  she  had  a  penny  to  give 
the  songster.  The  hod-carriers  halted ;  the  well- 
dressed  pedestrian,  on  whose  face,  when  he  saw  the 
crowd  gathering1,  there  was  at  first  a  look  of  disdain, 
as  if  he  would  say,  "  No  hand-organ  music  for  me,  if 
you  please,"  at  last  stood  still  and  blushed,  as  the 
beauty  of  the  song  stirred  his  inmost  heart.  And 
when  the  music  ceased,  the  listeners  turned  again  to 
their  employments,  as  if  refreshed  in  spirits  and 
quickened  to  contented  thoughts  of  the  work-a-day 
world. 

Music  means  not  merely  tunes  adapted  to  particular 
emotions  —  a  set  of  notes,  a  warbling  voice,  a  strain 
of  "melting  sweetness"  —  O!  no:  music  can  be  acted 
as  well  as  sung-.  The  heart  may  make  music  when 
the  lips  are  dumb.  A  simple  word  may  IDC  full  of 
music,  and  stir  the  pulses  to  new  and  better  emotions, 
the  soul  to  higher  joys !  The  harmony  of  a  well 
ordered  life  is  most  graceful  music ;  the  tender  cares 
and  caresses  of  a  wife ;  her  fond  solicitude  to  make 
home  all  it  should  be ;  the  kindred  gentleness  and 
affection  of  the  husband ;  the  quiet  and  ready  obedi- 
ence of  the  children  —  all  these,  do  they  not  make  a 
household  of  music,  that  in  the  land  beyond  shall  be 
chanted  by  choirs  of  ang-els,  when  at  last  such  families 
meet,  unbroken  bands,  in  heaven? 

If  only  sound  were  music,  how  many  thousands 
would  be  denied  that  delightful  solace  !  Some  there 


MUSIC. 


499 


are  who  cannot  sing  —  and  yet  whose  natures  are 
finest  harps,  from  which  an  unheard  melody  (unheard 
by  mortal  ears)  is  continually  ascending.  Some  there 
are  who  cannot  even  speak,  nor  hear,  and  yet  their 
sympathies,  their  nice  comprehensions,  are  beautiful 
with  the  subtle  instinct  of  melody.  O  !  tell  us  where 
music  is  not !  Now  we  hear  it  in  the  pensive  sound 
of  the  autumnal  winds  —  we  see  it  in  the  sparkling 
flow  of  the  bright  river ;  we  hear  it,  as  it  were,  in  the 
morning  stars ;  and  just  now  a  sweet  voice  uttered 
words  of  music.  It  is  in  all  the  elements ;  the  flame 
has  a  cheerful  hum  of  its  own,  and  the  crackling 
sparks  beat  time.  The  water  ripples  with  music ;  the 
air  is  always  whispering  melody,  and  the  bountiful 
earth  ceases  never  its  songs  of  praise.  The  trickling 
rain-drops  sing  as  they  fall ;  the  crowded  leaves 
answer  to  the  pipes  of  the  birds ;  the  sun  sets  the  day 
to  singing,  and  the  Almighty  has  made  man  to  sing 
songs  of  praise  to  Him  throughout  all  eternity. 

But  the  world  needs  music  —  the  touching  domestic 
song  that  tells  in  few  words  the  loves,  the  trials,  or 
the  blisses  of  life — the  more  sacred  music  that  leads 
the  soul  to  communion  with  God  —  it  needs  music - 
its  poor  cry  aloud  for  music ;  they  are  tired  of  the 
inharmonious  din  of  toil,  and  a  few  sweet  notes  bring 
with  them  hours  of  pleasure  to  the  weary  and  world- 
forsaken. 


500  HONOR. 


'  t 


To  BE  ambitious  of  true  honor,  of  the  true  glory 
and  perfection  of  our  natures,  is  the  very  principle  and 
incentive  of  virtue  ;  but  to  be  ambitious  of  titles,  of 
place,  of  ceremonial  respects  and  civil  pageantry,  is 
as  vain  and  little  as  the  things  we  court. 

True  honor,  as  defined  by  Cicero,  is  the  concur- 
rent approbation  of  good  men ;  those  only  being  fit 
to  give  true  praise  who  are  themselves  praiseworthy. 
Anciently  the  Romans  worshiped  virtue  and  honor  as 
gods ;  they  built  two  temples,  which  were  so  seated 
that  none  could  enter  the  temple  of  honor  without 
passing  through  the  temple  of  virtue. 

The  way  to  be  truly  honored  is  to  be  illustriously 
good.  Maximilian,  the  German  emperor,  replied  to 
one  who  desired  his  letters  patent  to  ennoble  him, 
saying,  "I  am  able  to  make  you  rich ;  but  virtue  must 
make  you  noble."  Who  would  not  desire  the  honor 
that  Agesilaus,  king  of  Sparta,  had,  who  was  fined  by 
the  Sphori  for  having  stolen  away  all  the  hearts  of  the 
people  to  himself  alone  ?  Of  whom  it  is  said  that  he 
ruled  his  country  by  obeying  it.  It  is  with  glory  as 
with  beauty,  for  as  a  single  fine  lineament  cannot 
make  a  fine  face,  neither  can  a  single  good  quality 
render  a  man  accomplished ;  but  a  concurrence  of 
many  fine  features  and  good  qualities  make  true 
beauty  and  true  honor. 

The  Athenians  raised  a  noble  statue  to  the  memory 


HONOR.  501 

of  ^sop,  and  placed  a  slave  on  a  pedestal,  that  men 
might  know  the  way  to  honor  was  open  to  all.  The 
man  of  honor  is  internal,  the  person  of  honor  an 
external ;  the  one  a  real,  the  other  a  fictitious  charac- 
ter. A  person  of  honor  may  be  a  profane  libertine, 
penurious,  proud,  may  insult  his  inferiors,  and  defraud 
his  creditors ;  but  it  is  impossible  for  a  man  of  honor 
to  be  guilty  of  any  of  these. 

Among  the  ancient  Greeks  and  Romans,  in  their 
best  days,  honor  was  more  sought  after  than  wealth. 
Times  are  changed,  Now,  wealth  is  the  surest  pass- 
port to  honor ;  and  respectability  is  endangered  by 
poverty.  "Rome,  was  Rome  no  more"  when  the 
imperial  purple  had  become  an  article  of  traffic,  and 
when  gold  could  purchase  with  ease  the  honors  that 
patriotism  and  valor  could  once  secure  only  with 
difficulty. 

There  is  no  true  glory,  no  true  greatness,  without 
virtue ;  without  which  we  do  but  abuse  all  the  good 
things  we  have,  whether  they  be  great  or  little,  false 
or  real.  Riches  make  us  either  covetous  or  prodigal ; 
fine  palaces  make  us  despise  the  poor  and  poverty ;  a 
great  number  of  domestics  flatter  human  pride,  which 
uses  them  like  slaves ;  valor  oftentimes  turns  brutal 
and  unjust;  and  a  high  pedigree  makes  a  man  take 
up  with  the  virtues  of  his  ancestors,  without  endeav- 
oring to  acquire  any  himself. 

It  is  a  fatal  and  delusive  ambition  which  allures 
many  to  the  pursuit  of  honors  as  such,  or  as  accessions 
to  some  greater  object  in  view.  The  substance  is 
dropped  co  catch  the  shade,  and  the  much-coveted 


502  GENIUS   AND    TALENT. 

distinctions,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  prove  to  be 
mere  airy  phantasms  and  gilded  mists.  Real  honor 
and  real  esteem  are  not  difficult  to  be  obtained  in  the 
world,  but  they  are  best  won  by  actual  worth  and 
merit,  rather  than  by  art  and  intrigue,  which  run  a 
long  and  ruinous  race,  and  seldom  seize  upon  the 
prize  at  last.  Seek  not  to  be  honored  in  any  way 
save  in  thine  own  bosom,  within  thyself. 

"  Honor  and  shame  from  no  condition  rise  : 
Act  well  your  part,  there  all  the  honor  lies." 


GENIUS  is  of  the  soul,  talent  of  the  understanding ; 
genius  is  warm,  talent  is  passionless.  Without  genius 
there  is  no  intuition,  no  inspiration ;  without  talent, 
no  execution.  Genius  is  interior,  talent  exterior; 
hence  genius  is  productive,  talent  accumulative. 
Genius  invents,  talent  accomplishes.  Genius  gives 
the  substance,  talent  works  it  up  under  the  eye,  or 
rather  under  the  feeling,  of  genius. 

Genius  is  that  quality  or  character  of  the  mind 
which  is  inventive,  or  generates ;  which  gives  to  the 
world  new  ideas  in  science,  art,  literature,  morals,  or 
religion,  which  recognizes  no  set  rules  or  principles, 
but  is  a  law  unto  itself,  and  rejoices  in  its  own  origin- 
ality; which  admitting  of  a  direction,  never  follows 
the  old  beaten  track,  but  strikes  out  for  a  new  course ; 


GENIUS    AND    TALENT.  5Q3 

which  has  no  fears  of  public  opinion,  nor  leans  upon 
public  favor  —  always  leads  but  never  follows,  which 
admits  no  truth  unless  convinced  by  experiment, 
reflection,  or  investigation,  and  never  bows  to  the 
ipse  dixit  of  any  man,  or  society,  or  creed. 

Talent  is  that  power  or  capacity  of  mind  which 
reasons  rapidly  from  cause  to  effect;  which  sees 
through  a  thing  at  a  glance,  and  comprehends  the 
rules  and  principles  upon  which  it  works ;  which  can 
take  in  knowledge  without  laborious  mental  study, 
and  needs  no  labored  illustrations  to  impress  a  prin- 
ciple or  a  fact,  no  matter  how  abstruse,  hidden,  com- 
plex, or  intricate.  Differing  from  genius  by  following 
rules  and  principles,  but  capable  of  comprehending 
the  works  of  genius  —  imitating  with  ease,  and  thereby 
claiming  a  certain  kind  of  originality,  talent  is  the 
able,  comprehensive  agent ;  while  genius  is  the  master 
director. 

Genius  is  emotional,  talent  intellectual ;  hence 
genius  is  creative,  and  talent  instrumental.  Genius 
has  insight,  talent  only  outsight.  Genius  is  always 
calm,  reserved,  self-centered ;  talent  is  often  bustling, 
officious,  confident.  Genius  is  rather  inward,  creative, 
and  angelic ;  talent,  outward,  practical,  and  worldly. 
Genius  disdains  and  defies  imitation ;  talent  is  often 
the  result  of  universal  imitation  in  respect  to  every- 
thing that  may  contribute  to  the  desired  excellence. 
Genius  has  quick  and  strong  sympathies,  and  is 
sometimes  given  to  reverie  and  vision ;  talent  is  cool 

o 

and  wise,  and  seldom  loses  sight  of  common  sense. 
Genius  is  born  for  a  particular  purpose,  in  which  it 


504  GENIUS    AND    TALENT. 

surpasses ;  talent  is  versatile,  and  may  make  a  respect- 
able figure  at  almost  anything.  Genius  gives  the 
impulse  and  aim  as  well  as  the  illumination ;  talent 
the  means  and  implements.  Genius,  in  short,  is  the 
central,  finer  essence  of  the  mind,  the  self-lighted  fire, 
the  intuitional  gift.  Talent  gathers  and  shapes  and 
applies  what  genius  forges.  Genius  is  often  entirely 
right,  and  is  never  wholly  wrong ;  talent  is  never 
wholly  right.  Genius  avails  itself  of  all  the  capabili- 
ties of  talent,  appropriates  to  itself  what  suits  and 
helps  it.  Talent  can  appropriate  to  itself  nothing, 
for  it  has  not  the  inward  heat  that  can  fuse  all  material 
and  assimilate  all  food  to  convert  it  into  blood ;  this 
only  genius  can  do.  Goethe  was  a  man  of  genius, 
and  at  the  same  time  of  immense  and  varied  talents ; 
and  no  contemporary  profited  so  much  as  he  did  by 
all  the  knowledges,  discoveries  and  accumulations 
made  by  others. 

Talent  is  full  of  thoughts ;  but  genius  full  of 
thought.  Genius  makes  its  observations  in  short 
hand ;  talent  writes  them  out  at  length.  Talent  is  a 
very  common  family  trait,  genius  belongs  rather  to 
individuals ;  just  as  you  find  one  giant  or  one  dwarf 
in  a  family,  but  rarely  a  whole  brood  of  either.  Men 
of  genius  are  often  dull  and  inert  in  society,  as  the 
blazing  meteor  when  it  descends  to  earth  is  only  a 
stone.  For  full  success  the  two,  genius  and  talent, 
should  co-exist  in  one  mind  in  balanced  proportions, 
as  they  did  in  Goethe's,  so  that  they  can  play 
smoothly  together  in  effective  combination.  The 
work  of  the  world,  even  the  higher  ranges,  being 


GENIUS    AND    TALENT.  5Q5 

done  by  talent,  talent,  backed  by  industry,  is  sure 
to  achieve  outward  success.  Commonplace  is  the 
smooth  road  on  which  are  borne  the  freights  that 
supply  the  daily  needs  of  life ;  but  genius,  as  the 
originator  of  all  appliances  and  aids  and  motions  and 
improvements,  is  the  parent  of  what  is  to-day  com- 
mon—  of  all  that  talent  has  turned  to  practical 
account. 

It  is  one  of  the  mysteries  of  our  life  that  genius, 
that  noblest  gift  of  God  to  man,  is  nourished  by 
poverty.  Its  greatest  works  have  been  achieved  by 
the  sorrowing  ones  of  the  world  in  tears  and  despair. 
Not  in  the  brilliant  saloon,  furnished  with  every  com- 
fort and  elegance ;  not  in  the  library  well  fitted,  softly 
carpeted,  and  looking  out  upon  a  smooth,  green 
lawn,  or  a  broad  expanse  of  scenery ;  not  in  ease  and 
competence,  is  genius  born  and  nurtured ;  more  fre- 
quently in  adversity  and  destitution,  amidst  the  har- 
assing cares  of  a  straitened  household,  in  bare  and 
fireless  garrets,  with  the  noise  of  squalid  children,  in 
the  midst  of  the  turbulence  of  domestic  contentions, 
and  in  the  deep  gloom  of  uncheered  despair,  is  genius 
born  and  reared.  This  is  its  birth-place  ;  and  in  scenes 
like  these,  unpropitious,  repulsive,  wretched,  have 
men  labored,  studied  and  trained  themselves,  until 
they  have  at  last  emanated  out  of  the  gloom  of  that 
obscurity  the  shining  lights  of  their  times,  become 
the  companions  of  kings,  the  guides  and  teachers  of 
their  kind,  and  exercised  an  influence  upon  the 
thought  of  the  world  amounting  to  a  species  of  intel- 
lectual legislation. 


506  GENIUS    AND    TALENT 

Genius  involves  a  more  than  usual  susceptibility  to 
divine  promptings,  a  delicacy  in  spiritual  speculation, 
a  quick  obedience  to  the  invisible  helmsman ;  and 
these  high  superiorities  imply  fineness  and  fullness  of 
organization.  "The  man  of  genius  is  subject,"  says 
Joubert,  "to  transport,  or  rather  rapture,  of  mind." 
In  this  exalted  state  he  has  glimpses  of  truth,  beauties, 
principles,  laws,  that  are  new  revelations,  and  bring 
additions  to  human  power.  Goethe  might  have  been 
thinking  of  Kepler  when  he  said,  "Genius  is  that 
power  of  man  which  by  thought  and  action  gives 
laws  and  rules ; "  and  Coleridge  of  Milton,  when  he 
wrote,  "The  ultimate  end  of  genius  is  ideal;"  and 
Hegel  may  have  had  Michael  Angelo  in  his  mind 
when,  in  one  of  his  chapters  on  the  plastic  arts,  he 
affirms  that  "Talent  cannot  do  its  part  fully  without 
the  animation,  the  besouling  of  genius." 

Great  powers  and  natural  gifts  do  not  bring  privi- 
leges to  their  possessors,  so  much  as  they  bring  duties. 
A  contemporary,  in  dilating  on  genius,  thus  sagely 
remarks:  "The  talents  granted  to  a  single  individual 
do  not  benefit  himself  alone,  but  are  gifts  to  the  world ; 
every  one  shares  them,  for  every  one  suffers  or  bene- 
fits by  his  actions.  Genius  is  a  light-house,  meant  to 
give  light  from  afar ;  the  man  who  bears  it  is  but  the 
rock  upon  which  the  light-house  is  built." 

Hath  God  given  you  genius  and  learning?  It  was 
not  that  you  might  amuse  or  deck  yourself  with  it 
and  kindle  a  blaze  which  should  only  serve  to  attract 
and  dazzle  the  eyes  of  men.  It  was  intended  to  be 
the  means  of  leading  both  yourself  and  them  to  the 


THINKERS.  507 

Father  of  light.  And  it  will  be  your  duty,  according 
to  the  peculiar  turn  of  that  genius  and  capacity,  either 
to  endeavor  to  promote  and  adorn  human  life,  or,  by 
a  more  direct  application  of  it  to  divine  subjects,  to 
plead  the  cause  of  religion,  to  defend  its  truths,  to 
enforce  and  recommend  its  practice,  to  deter  men 
from  courses  which  would  be  dishonorable  to  God  and 
fatal  to  themselves,  and  to  try  the  utmosts  efforts  of 
all  the  solemnity  and  tenderness  with  which  you  can 
clothe  your  addresses,  to  lead  them  into  the  paths 
of  irl-  --K  and  happiness. 


ot        .H- 

f*~    ~ 


THINKERS  rise  upon  us  like  new  stars — a  few  in  a 
century.  The  multitude  run  after  them,  and,  like 
Lazarus,  eat  the  crumbs  that  fall  from  their  table. 
They  follow  them  by  instinct ;  they  adopt  their  theories 
and  accept  their  thoughts  at  sight,  Calvin  rose  and 
thought.  What  a  multitude  swallowed  his  hard, 
rocky  thoughts,  as  though  they  were  digestible 
mental  food !  Wesley  rose,  and  another  multitude 
followed  him,  much  as  Mohammedans  followed  their 
prophet.  Swedenborg  rose  in  the  North,  and 
straightway  a  cloud  of  witnesses  appeared  about  him 
to  testify  to  all  he  wrote.  Davis  came  above  the 
horizon,  and  lo !  an  army  follows  in  his  train.  So  it 
is ;  men  swallow  whole  what  they  eat,  wheat  or  chaff, 
meat  or  bone,  nut  or  shell.  They  do  not  masticate 


508  THINKERS. 

their  mental  food ;  they  do  not  examine  the  facts  they 
learn ;  they  do  not  digest  their  knowledge.  If  they 
did  we  should  not  have  schools  of  men,  sects,  parties, 
but  one  grand  lyceum  of  individual  thinkers ;  every 
one  making  his  own  use  of  his  knowledge,  forming 
his  own  conclusions,  and  working  out  his  own  kind 
and  degree  of  culture.  We  read  enough  to  have  a 
generation  of  philosophers. 

Dull  thinkers  are  always  led  by  sharp  ones.  The 
keen  intellect  cuts  its  way  smoothly,  gracefully,  rap- 
idly ;  the  dull  one  wears  its  life  out  against  the  simplest 
problems.  To  perceive  accurately  and  to  think  cor- 
rectly, is  the  aim  of  all  mental  training.  Heart  and 
conscience  are  more  than  the  mere  intellect.  Yet  we 
cannot  tell  how  much  the  clear,  clean-cut  thought,  the 
intellectual  vision,  sharp  and  true,  may  aid  even  these. 
Some  say  that  a  man  never  feels  till  he  sees,  and  when 
the  object  disappears,  the  feeling  ceases.  So  we 
cannot  exaggerate  the  importance  of  clear,  correct 
thinking.  We  should  eat,  drink,  sleep,  walk,  exercise 
body  and  mind,  to  this  end.  Just  so  far  as  we  fail,  we 
make  dolts  and  idiots  of  ourselves.  We  cast  away 
our  natural  armor  and  defense.  The  designing  make 
us  dupes ;  we  are  overreached  by  the  crafty,  and 
trodden  under  foot  by  the  strong. 

Undigested  learning  is  as  oppressive  as  undigested 
food ;  and  as  in  the  dyspeptic  patient,  the  appetite  for 
food  often  grows  with  the  inability  to  digest  it,  so  in 
the  unthinking  patient,  an  overweening  desire  to  know 
often  accompanies  the  inability  to  know  to  any  purpose. 
Thought  is  to  the  brain  what  gastric  juice  is  to  the 


THINKERS.  509 

stomach  —  a  solvent  to  reduce  whatever  is  received 
to  a  condition  in  which  all  that  is  wholesome  and 
nutritive  may  be  appropriated,  and  that  alone.  To 
learn  merely  for  the  sake  of  learning,  is  like  eating 
merely  for  the  taste  of  the  food.  The  mind  will  wax 
fat  and  unwieldly,  like  the  body  of  the  gormand. 
The  stomach  is  to  the  frame  what  memory  is  to  the 
mind ;  and  it  is  as  unwise  to  cultivate  the  memory  at 
the  expense  of  the  mind  as  it  would  be  to  enlarge  the 
capacity  of  the  stomach  by  eating  more  food  than  the 
wants  of  the  frame  require,  or  food  that  it  could  not 
appropriate.  To  learn  in  order  to  become  wise  makes 
the  mind  active  and  powerful,  like  the  body  of  one 
who  is  temperate  and  judicious  in  meat  and  drink. 
Learning  is  healthfully  digested  by  the  mind  when  it 
reflects  upon  what  is  learned,  classifies  and  arranges 
facts  and  circumstances,  considers  the  relations  of  one 
to  another,  and  places  what  is  taken  into  the  mind  at 
different  times  in  relation  to  the  same  subjects  under 
their  appropriate  heads ;  so  that  the  various  stores 
are  not  heterogeneously  piled  up,  but  laid  away  in 
order,  and  may  be  referred  to  with  ease  when  wanted. 
If  a  person's  daily  employments  are  such  as  demand 
a  constant  exercise  of  the  thoughts,  all  the  leisure 
should  not  be  devoted  to  reading,  but  a  part  reserved 
for  reflecting  upon  and  arranging  in  the  mind  what  is 
read.  The  manner  of  reading  is  much  more  impor- 
tant than  the  quantity.  To  hurry  through  many 
books,  retaining  only  a  confused  knowledge  of  their 
contents,  is  but  a  poor  exercise  of  the  brain ;  it  is  far 
better  to  read  with  care  a  few  well  selected  volumes. 


510  THINKERS. 

Some  of  the  great  advantages  of  thinking  are  the 
following:  First,  it  transfers  and  conveys  the  senti- 
ments of  others  to  ourselves,  so  as  to  make  them 
properly  our  own.  Secondly,  it  enables  us  to  distin- 
guish truth  from  error,  and  to  reject  what  is  wrong 
after  we  have  seen,  read,  or  heard  anything.  Thirdly, 
by  this  we  fix  in  our  memory  only  what  we  best 
approve  of,  without  loading  it  with  all  that  we  read. 
Lastly,  by  properly  meditating  on  what  comes  within 
the  view  of  our  minds,  we  may  improve  upon  the 
sentiments  or  inventions  of  others,  and  thereby 
acquire  great  reputation,  and  perhaps  emolument, 
from  their  labors. 

All  mental  superiority  originates  in  habits  of  think- 
ing. A  child,  indeed,  like  a  machine,  may  be  made 
to  perform  certain  functions  by  external  means ;  but  it 
is  only  when  he  begins  to  think  that  he  rises  to  the 
dignity  of  a  rational  being.  It  is  not  reading,  but 
thinking,  that  gives  you  a  possession  of  knowledge. 
A  person  may  see,  hear,  read  and  learn  whatever 
he  pleases  and  as  much  as  he  pleases ;  but  he  will 
know  very  little,  if  anything,  of  it,  beyond  that  which 
he  has  thought  over  and  made  the  property  of  his 
mind.  Take  away  thought  from  the  life  of  man  and 
what  remains  ?  You  may  glean  knowledge  by  read- 
ing, but  you  must  separate  the  chaff  from  the  wheat 
by  thinking. 

At  every  action  and  enterprise,  ask  yourself  this 
question :  What  will  the  consequence  of  this  be  to 
me?  Am  I  not  likely  to  repent  of  it?  I  shall  be 
dead  in  a  little  time,  and  then  all  is  over  with  me. 


THINKERS. 


Whatever  thou  takest  in  hand,  remember  the  end, 
and  thou  shalt  never  do  amiss.  Think  before  you 
speak,  and  consider  before  you  promise.  Take  time 
to  deliberate  and  advise  ;  but  lose  no  time  in  execut- 
ing your  resolutions.  Do  nothing  to-day  that  you  will 
repent  of  to-morrow.  In  the  morning  think  of  what 
you  have  to  do,  and  at  night  ask  yourself  what  you 
have  done.  Seek  not  out  the  thoughts  that  are  too 
hard  for  you.  Strive  not  in  a  matter  that  concerns 
you  not.  Evil  thoughts  are  dangerous  enemies,  and 
should  be  repulsed  at  the  threshold  of  our  minds. 
Fill  the  head  and  heart  with  good  thoughts,  that 
there  be  no  room  for  bad  ones. 

Some  persons  complain  that  they  cannot  find  words 
for  their  thoughts,  when  the  real  trouble  is  they  can- 
not find  thoughts  for  their  words.  The  man  who 
thinks  laboriously  will  express  himself  concisely.  It 
is  only  by  labor  that  thought  can  be  made  healthy, 
and  only  by  thought  that  labor  can  be  made  happy. 
It  is  not  depth  of  thought  which  makes  obscure  to 
others  the  work  of  a  thinker;  real  and  offensive 
obscurity  comes  merely  of  inadequate  thought  embod- 
ied in  inadequate  language.  What  is  clearly  compre- 
hended or  conceived,  what  is  duly  wrought  and 
thought  out,  must  find  for  itself  and  seize  upon  the 
clearest  and  fullest  expression.  Thoughts  are  but 
dreams  till  their  effects  be  tried.  The  best  thoughts 
are  ever  swiftest  winged,  the  duller  lag  behind. 
A  thought  must  have  its  own  way  of  expression,  or 
it  will  have  no  way  at  all.  The  thought  that  lives  is 
only  the  deed  struggling  into  birth.  It  is  with  our 


512  THINKERS. 

thoughts  as  with  our  flowers  —  those  that  are  simple 
in  expression  carry  their  seed  with  them ;  those  that 
are  double  charm  the  mind,  but  produce  nothing-. 

There  is  much  need  of  independent  thought  in  our 
day.  Too  many  yield  to  the  opinions  of  others  with- 
out asking  or  meditating  upon  their  bearing.  Often- 
times the  masses  are  enslaved  to  opinion,  especially 
in  political  matters.  This  may  be  necessary  in  some 
countries,  where  a  few  rule,  but  not  in  our  country, 
where,  through  a  liberal  education,  all  may  be  taught 
to  think.  Books  are  so  cheap  now  that  the  poorest 
can  have  access  to  the  channels  of  thought.  Books, 
however,  should  only  be  used  as  an  impetus  to  set  the 
mind  in  motion  and  set  it  to  prying  deeper  and  farther 
into  nature's  hidden  recesses  and  boundless  realms  of 
truth,  or,  as  a  stone  that  is  cast  into  the  calm  bosom 
of  the  lake  causes  waves  to  roll  and  roll  on  against 
the  remotest  outlines  of  the  shore.  It  behooves  us 
to  cast  off  the  shackles  of  opinion  and  walk  resolutely 
before  the  world,  guided  by  a  well-grounded  opinion 
of  our  own.  Every  man  and  woman  ought  to  favor 
his  age  with  new  thoughts,  new  ideas,  as  an  addition 
to  the  great  store-house  of  ideas,  with  thoughts  that 
will  live  though  empires  fall  and  language  dies. 
Such  men  and  women  raise  the  world  from  one 
degree  to  another  higher  in  the  scale  of  civilization 
and  intelligence.  Such  are  the  lives  that  receive  the 
plaudit,  "Well  done!"  Such  are  lives  virtuous,  noble 
and  godlike. 

No  man  need  fear  that  he  will  exhaust  his  substance 
of  thought,  if  he  will  only  draw  his  inspiration  from. 


BENEFACTORS  OR  MALEFACTORS. 


actual  human  life.  There  the  inexhaustible  God  pours 
depths  and  endless  variety  of  truth,  and  the  true 
thinker  is  but  a  shorthand  writer  endeavoring  to 
report  the  discourse  of  God.  Shall  a  child  on  the 
banks  of  the  Amazon  fear  lest  he  should  drink  up  the 
stream  ? 


0i[ 


WE  are  all  well  doers  or  evil  doers.  "None  of  us 
liveth  to  himself."  We  die,  but  leave  an  influence 
behind  us  that  survives. 

The  echoes  of  our  words  are  evermore  repeated, 
and  reflected  along  the  ages.  It  is  what  man  was 
that  lives  and  acts  after  him.  What  he  said  sounds 
along  the  years  like  voices  amid  the  mountain  gorges  ; 
and  what  he  did  is  repeated  after  him  in  ever-multi- 
plying and  never-ceasing  reverberations.  Every  man 
has  left  behind  him  influences  for  good  or  for  evil  that 
will  never  exhaust  themselves.  The  sphere  in  which 
he  acts  may  be  small,  or  it  may  be  great.  It  may  be 
his  fireside,  or  it  may  be  a  kingdom  ;  a  village,  or  a 
great  nation  ;  it  may  be  a  parish,  or  broad  Europe  ; 
but  act  he  does,  ceaselessly  and  forever.  His  friends, 
his  family,  his  successors  in  office,  his  relatives,  are  all 
receptive  of  an  influence,  a  moral  influence  which  he 
has  transmitted  and  bequeathed  to  mankind  ;  either 
a  blessing  which  will  repeat  itself  in  showers  of 

33 


514        BENEFACTORS  OR  MALEFACTORS. 

benedictions,  or  a  curse  which  will  multiply  itself  in 
ever-accumulating  evil. 

Every  man  is  a  missionary,  now  and  forever,  for 
good  or  for  evil,  whether  he  intend  and  design  it,  or 
not.  He  may  be  a  blot,  radiating  his  dark  influence 
outward  to  the  very  circumference  of  society,  or  he 
may  be  a  blessing,  spreading  benedictions  over  the 
length  and  breadth  of  the  world;  but  a  blank. he  can- 
not be.  The  seed  sown  in  life  springs  up  in  harvests 
of  blessings,  or  harvests  of  sorrow.  Whether  our 
influence  be  great  or  small,  whether  it  be  for  good  or 
evil,  it  lasts,  it  lives  somewhere,  within  some  limit, 
and  is  operative  wherever  it  is.  The  grave  buries 
the  dead  dust,  but  the  character  walks  the  world,  and 
distributes  itself,  as  a  benediction  or  a  curse,  among 
the  families  of  mankind. 

The  sun  sets  beyond  the  western  hills,  but  the  trail 
of  light  he  leaves  behind  him  guides  the  pilgrim  to 
his  distant  home.  The  tree  falls  in  the  forest ;  but  in 
the  lapse  of  ages  it  is  turned  into  coal,  and  our  fires 
burn  now  the  brighter  because  it  grew  and  fell.  The 
coral  insect  dies,  but  the  reef  it  raised  breaks  the 
surge  on  the  shores  of  great  continents,  or  has  formed 
an  isle  in  the  bosom  of  the  ocean,  to  wave  with  har- 
vests for  the  good  of  man.  We  live  and  we  die ;  but 
the  good  or  evil  that  we  do  lives  after  us,  and  is  not 
"buried  with  our  bones." 

The  babe  that  perished  on  the  bosom  of  its  mother, 
like  a  flower  that  bowed  its  head  and  drooped  amid 
the  death-frosts  of  time  —  that  babe,  not  only  in  its 
image,  but  in  its  influence,  still  lives  and  speaks  in 
the  chambers  of  the  mother's  heart. 


BENEFACTORS  OR  MALEFACTORS.        515 

The  friend  with  whom  we  took  sweet  counsel  is 
removed  visibly  from  the  outward  eye;  but  the  les- 
sons that  he  taught,  the  grand  sentiments  that  he 
uttered,  the  holy  deeds  of  generosity  by  which  he  was 
characterized,  the  moral  lineaments  and  likeness  of 
the  man,  still  survive  and  appear  on  the  tablets  of 
memory,  and  in  the  light  of  morn  and  noon,  and  dewy 
eve ;  and,  being  dead,  he  yet  speaks  eloquently,  and 
in  the  midst  of  us. 

Mahomet  still  lives  in  his  practical  and  disastrous 
influence  in  the  East.  Napoleon  still  is  France,  and 
France  is  almost  Napoleon.  Martin  Luther's  dead 
dust  sleeps  at  Wittemburg,  but  Martin  Luther's 
accents  still  ring  through  the  churches  of  Christen- 
dom. Shakspeare,  Byron,  and  Milton,  all  live  in 
their  influence,  for  good  or  evil.  The  apostle  from 
his  chair,  the  minister  from  his  pulpit,  the  martyr 
from  his  flame-shroud,  the  statesman  from  his  cabinet, 
the  soldier  in  the  field,  the  sailor  on  the  deck,  who  all 
have  passed  away  to  their  graves,  still  live  in  the 
practical  deeds  that  they  did,  in  the  lives  they  lived, 
and  in  the  powerful  lessons  that  they  left  behind 
them. 

"None  of  us  liveth  to  himself;"  others  are  affected 
by  that  life;  "or  dieth  to  himself;"  others  are  inter- 
ested in  that  death.  The  queen's  crown  may  molder, 
but  she  who  wore  it  will  act  upon  the  ages  which  are 
yet  to  come.  The  noble's  coronet  may  be  reft  in 
pieces,  but  the  wearer  of  it  is  now  doing  what  will  be 
reflected  by  thousands  who  will  be  made  and  molded 
by  him.  Dignity,  and  rank,  and  riches,  are  all  cor- 


516        BENEFACTORS  OR  MALEFACTORS. 

ruptible  and  worthless ;  but  moral  character  has  an 
immortality  that  no  sword-point  can  destroy ;  that 
ever  walks  the  world  and  leaves  lasting  influences 
behind. 

What  we  do  is  transacted  on  a  stage  of  which  all 
in  the  universe  are  spectators.  What  we  say  is  trans- 
mitted in  echoes  that  will  never  cease.  What  we  are 
is  influencing  and  acting  on  the  rest  of  mankind. 
Neutral  we  cannot  be.  Living  we  act,  and  dead  we 
speak ;  and  the  whole  universe  is  the  mighty  company 
forever  looking,  forever  listening ;  and  all  nature  the 
tablets  forever  recording  the  words,  the  deeds,  the 
thoughts,  the  passions  of  mankind ! 

Monuments,  and  columns,  and  statues,  erected  to 
heroes,  poets,  orators,  statesmen,  are  all  influences 
that  extend  into  the  future  ages.  The  blind  old  man 
of  Scio's  rocky  isle  still  speaks.  The  Mantuan  bard 
still  sings  in  every  school.  Shakspeare,  the  bard  of 
Avon,  is  still  translated  into  every  tongue.  The 
philosophy  of  the  Stagyrite  is  still  felt  in  every  acad- 
emy. Whether  these  influences  are  beneficent  or  the 
reverse,  they  are  influences  fraught  with  power. 
How  blest  must  be  the  recollection  of  those  who, 
like  the  setting  sun,  have  left  a  trail  of  light  behind 
them  by  which  others  may  see  the  way  to  that  rest 
which  remaineth  for  the  people  of  God !  Since  our 
earthly  life  is  so  brief,  "and  the  night  will  soon  come 
when  the  murmur  and  hum  of  our  days  shall  be  dumb 
evermore,"  it  were  well  to  have  mile-stones  by  the 
way  pointing  to  a  better  land. 

The  yeoman,  gathering  treasures  from  the  bosom 


BENEFACTORS  OR  MALEFACT6RS.        517 

of  the  earth,  and  thus  aiding-  in  the  sustenance  of 
humanity;  the  miner,  delving  into  the  deep  cavern 
and  bringing  forth  diamonds  and  precious  stones, 
adding  to  the  world's  vast  wealth ;  the  manufacturer, 
sending  the  costly  fabrics  through  the  land,  and 
securing-  exchange  from  foreign  countries ;  the  archi- 
tect, with  the  proud  monuments  of  his  skill ;  the 
sculptor,  with  his  chisel  carving  the  form  divine ;  the 
artist,  writing  out  in  letters  of  abiding  light  the  faces 
we  so  fondly  love,  and  thus  blessing-  us  with  the 
continued  presence  of  not  only  the  absent  ones,  but 
also  those  who  "are  not,"  since  God  hath  taken  them; 
all  these  are  truly  earth's  benefactors,  and  yet  only 
the  silver  links  in  the  mighty  chain. 

Would  we  be  numbered  among  earth's  benefactors, 
and  have  our  middle  and  latest  life  filled  with  richest 
and  holiest  experiences,  we  must  be  ofttimes  oblivious 
of  self,  con  well  the  lesson  contained  in  the  "Golden 
Rule,"  and  be  still  further  perfected  in  the  two  great 
commandments,  "on  which  hang  all  the  law  and  the 
prophets."  When  all  the  purple  and  gold,  the  glitter 
and  tinsel  of  our  earthly  life  is  ended,  and  the  un- 
known and  mysterious  eternity  is  spread  out  to  our 
immortal  vision,  will  it  not  be  a  source  of  greater  joy 
to  us  to  have  wiped  a  tear  from  the  eye  of  the  sor- 
rowing-, to  have  soothed  a  weary  pilgrim  crossing-  the 
river  of  death,  pointing  by  an  eye  of  faith  to  the 
"better  country,"  "even  a  heavenly,"  to  have  plumed 
one  wing  for  its  eternal  flight,  than  to  possess  a  kingly- 
crown,  or  wear  fame's  brightest  laurels  ? 

It  is  only  the  pure  fountain  that  brings  forth  pure 


518  TRIALS    OF    LIFE. 

water.  The  good  tree  only  will  produce  the  good 
fruit.  If  the  centre  from  which  all  proceeds  be  pure 
and  holy,  the  radii  of  influence  from  it  will  be  pure 
and  holy  also.  Go  forth,  then,  into  the  spheres  that 
you  occupy,  the  employments,  the  trades,  the  profes- 
sions of  social  life  ;  go  forth  into  the  high  places,  or 
into  the  lowly  places  of  the  land  ;  mix  with  the  roar- 
ing cataracts  of  social  convulsions,  or  mingle  amid 
the  eddies  and  streamlets  of  quiet  and  domestic  life  ; 
whatever  sphere  you  fill,  carry  into  it  a  holy  heart, 
you  will  radiate  around  you  life  and  power,  and  leave 
behind  you  holy  and  beneficent  influences. 


STARS  shine  brightest  in  the  darkest  night  ;  torches 
are  the  better  for  beating  ;  grapes  come  not  to  the 
proof  till  they  come  to  the  press  ;  spices  smell  sweet- 
est when  pounded  ;  young  trees  root  the  faster  for 
shaking  ;  vines  are  the  better  for  bleeding  ;  gold  looks 
the  brighter  for  scouring  ;  glow-worms  glisten  best  in 
the  dark  ;  juniper  smells  sweetest  in  the  fire  ;  poman- 
der becomes  most  fragrant  for  chasing  ;  the  palm-tree 
proves  the  better  for  pressing  ;  camomile,  the  more 
you  tread  it,  the  more  you  spread  it.  Such  is  the 
condition  of  men  ;  they  are  the  most  triumphant  when 
most  tempted  ;  as  their  conflicts,  so  their  conquests  ; 
as  their  tribulations,  so  their  triumphs.  True  sala- 


TRIALS    OF    LIFE.  519 

manders  live  best  in  the  furnace  of  persecution  ;  so 
that  heavy  afflictions  are  the  best  benefactors  to  heav- 
enly affections.  And  where  afflictions  hang-  heaviest, 
corruptions  hang  loosest;  and  grace  that  is  hid  in 
nature,  as  sweet  water  in  rose-leaves,  is  then  most 
fragrant  when  the  fire  of  affliction  is  put  under  to 
distil  it  out. 

Do  you  wish  to  live  without  a  trial?  Then  you 
wish  to  die  but  half  a  man  —  at  the  best  but  half  a 
man.  Without  trial  you  cannot  guess  at  your  own 
strength.  Men  do  not  learn  to  swim  on  a  table. 
They  must  go  into  deep  water  and  buffet  the  surges. 
A  certain  amount  of  opposition  is  a  great  help  to  a 
man.  Kites  rise  against  the  wind,  and  not  with  the 
wind;  even  a  head  wind  is  better  than  none.  No 
man  ever  worked  his  passage  any  where  in  a  calm. 
Let  no  man  wax  pale,  therefore,  because  of  opposi- 
tion ;  opposition  is  what  he  wants  and  must  have,  to 
be  good  for  any  thing.  Hardship  is  the  native  soil  of 
manhood  and  self-reliance. 

An  acorn  is  not  an  oak  tree  when  it  is  sprouted. 
It  must  go  through  long"  summers  and  fierce  winters ; 
it  has  to  endure  all  that  frost,  and  snow,  and  thunder, 
and  storm,  and  side-striking  winds  can  bring,  before 
it  is  a  full-grown  oak.  These  are  rough  teachers ; 
but  rugged  schoolmasters  make  rugged  pupils.  So  a 
man  is  not  a  man  when  he  is  created;  he  is  only 
begun.  His  manhood  must  come  with  years.  A  man 
who  goes  through  life  prosperous,  and  comes  to  his 
grave  without  a  wrinkle  is  not  half  a  man.  In  time  of 
war,  whom  does  the  general  select  for  some  hazardous 


520  TRIALS    OF    LIFE. 

enterprise?  He  looks  over  his  men,  and  chooses 
the  soldiers  whom  he  knows  will  not  flinch  at  danger, 
but  will  go  bravely  through  whatever  is  allotted  to 
him.  He  calls  him  that  he  may  receive  his  orders, 
and  the  officer,  blushing  with  pleasure  to  be  thus 
chosen,  hastens  away  to  execute  them.  Difficulties 
are  God's  errands.  And  when  we  are  sent  upon  them 
we  should  esteem  it  a  proof  of  God's  confidence  — as 
a  compliment  from  God.  The  traveler  who  goes 
round  the  world  prepares  himself  to  pass  through  all 
latitudes,  and  to  meet  all  changes.  So  man  must  be 
willing  to  take  life  as  it  comes ;  to  mount  the  hill 
when  the  hill  swells,  and  to  go  down  the  hill  when 
the  hill  lowers ;  to  walk  the  plain  when  it  stretches 
before  him,  and  to  ford  the  river  when  it  rolls  over 
the  plain.  "I  can  do  all  things  through  Christ  which 
strengthened  me." 

The  best  of  people  will  now  and  then  meet  with 
disappointments,  for  they  are  inherited  by  mortality. 
It  is,  however,  the  better  philosophy  to  take  things 
calmly  and  endeavor  to  be  content  with  our  lot.  We 
may  at  least  add  some  rays  of  sunshine  to  our  path, 
if  we  earnestly  endeavor  to  dispel  the  clouds  of  dis- 
content that  may  arise  in  our  bosoms.  -And  by  so 
doing,  we  the  more  fully  enjoy  the  bountiful  blessing 
that  God  gives  to  his  humblest  creatures. 

It  is  far  more  noble  to  improve  each  hour  in  culti- 
vating the  mind,  and  attuning  it  to  the  glory  of  the 
Creator.  For  this  end  it  matters  not  so  much  whether 
we  spend  our  time  in  study  or  toil ;  the  thoughts  of 
the  mind  should  go  out  and  reach  after  the  higher 


T  0*  D  A  L  S     OIF    LI  1 

FOR  THE  ROYAL   PATH  OF   LIFE 


TRIALS    OF    LIKE. 


good.  In  this  manner  we  may  improve  ourselves  till 
our  thoughts  come  to  be  sweet  companions  that  shall 
lead  us  along  the  path  of  virtue.  Thus  we  may  grow 
better  within,  whilst  the  cares  of  life,  the  crosses  and 
losses  and  disappointments  lose  their  sharp  thorns, 
and  the  journey  of  life  be  made  comparatively  pleasant 
and  happy. 

Much  material  good  must  be  resigned  if  we  would 
attain  to  the  highest  degree  of  moral  excellence,  and 
many  spiritual  joys  must  be  foregone  if  we  resolve  at 
all  risks  to  win  great  material  advantages.  To  strive 
for  a  high  professional  position,  and  yet  expect  to 
have  all  the  delights  of  leisure  ;  to  labor  for  vast 
riches,  and  yet  to  ask  for  freedom  from  anxiety  and 
care,  and  all  the  happiness  which  flows  from  a  con- 
tented mind  ;  to  indulge  in  sensual  gratification,  and 
yet  demand  health,  strength,  and  vigor  ;  to  live  for  self, 
and  yet  to  look  for  the  joys  that  spring  from  a  virtu- 
ous and  self-denying  life,  is  to  ask  for  impossibilities. 

God  knows  what  keys  in  the  human  soul  to  touch 
in  order  to  draw  out  its  sweeter  and  most  perfect 
harmonies.  They  may  be  the  minor  strains  of  sad- 
ness and  sorrow  ;  they  may  be  the  loftier  notes  of 
joy  and  gladness.  God  knows  where  the  melodies 
of  our  natures  are,  and  what  discipline  will  bring 
them  forth.  Some  with  plaintive  tongues  must  walk 
in  lowly  vales  of  life's  weary  way,  others,  in  loftier 
hymns,  sing  of  nothing  but  joy,  as  they  tread  the 
mountain-tops  of  life  ;  but  they  all  unite  without  dis- 
cord or  jar  as  the  ascending  anthem  of  loving  and 
believing  hearts  finds  its  way  into  the  chorus  of  the 
redeemed  heaven. 


522  sic  KM  ESS. 


SICKNESS  brings  a  share  of  blessings  with  it.  What 
stores  of  human  love  and  sympathy  it  reveals.  What 
constant  affectionate  care  is  ours.  What  kindly 
greetings  from  friends  and  associates.  This  very 
loosening  of  our  hold  upon  life  calls  out  such  wealth 
of  human  sympathy  that  life  seems  richer  than  before. 
Then  it  teaches  humility.  Our  absence  is  scarcely 
felt  or  noticed.  From  the  noisy,  wrestling  world 
without  we  are  separated  completely,  as  if  the  moss 
was  on  our  tombstones ;  yet  our  place  is  filled  and  all 
moves  on  without  us.  So  we  learn  that  when  at  last 
we  shall  sink  forever  beneath  the  waves  of  the  sea  of 
life,  there  will  be  but  one  ripple  and  the  current  will 
move  steadily  on.  On  the  sick-bed  the  sober  truth 
comes  home  with  startling  emphasis : 

"  The  gay  will  laugh 

When  thou  art  gone,  the  solemn  brood  of  care 
Plod  on,  and  each  one  as  before  will  chase 
His  fravoite  phantom." 

We  cannot  too  soon  convince  ourselves  how  easily 
we  may  be  dispensed  with  in  the  world.  What  im- 
portant personages  we  imagine  ourselves  to  be !  We 
think  that  we  alone  are  the  life  of  the  circle  in  which 
we  move ;  in  our  absence  we  fancy  that  life,  existence 
and  breath  will  come  to  a  general  pause ;  and  alas ! 
the  gap  which  we  leave  is  scarcely  perceptible,  so 
quickly  is  it  filled  again  ;  nay,  it  is  often  but  the  place. 


SICKNESS.  593 

if  not  for  something  better,  at  least  for  something- 
more  agreeable. 

When  sickness  has  drawn  a  veil  over  the  gayety  of 
our  hearts,  or  adversity  eclipsed  the  splendor  of  our 
outward  circumstances  ;  when  some  intervening  cloud 
has  darkened  the  pleasing  scenes  of  life,  or  disap- 
pointments opened  our  eyes ;  then  vice  loses  her 
fallacious  allurements  and  the  world  appears  as  an 
empty,  delusive  cheat ;  then  Jesus  and  the  Gospel 
beam  forth  with  inimitable  lustre,  and  Christian  virtue 
gains  loveliness  from  such  lowering  providences,  and 
treads  the  shades  with  more  than  mortal  charms. 
May  this  reconcile  all  the  sons  of  sorrow  to  their 
appointed  share  of  sufferings.  If  tribulations  tend 
to  refine  the  soul  and  prepare  it  for  glory,  welcome 
distress,  or  whatever  our  peevish  passions  may  mis- 
call calamities.  These  are  not  judgments  or  marks 
of  displeasure  to  God's  children,  but  necessary  and 
salutary  chastisements,  as  well  as  tokens  of  his 
parental  concern  for  our  spiritual  and  eternal  welfare. 
Afflictions  should,  therefore,  sit  easy  upon  us,  since 
they  increase  our  knowledge  and  humility,  promote 
our  faith  and  love,  and  work  out  for  us  a  far  more 
exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory. 

Sickness  scours  us  of  our  rust,  and  however  the 
\vicked,  like  trees  in  the  wilderness,  grow  without 
culture,  yet  the  saints,  like  trees  in  the  garden,  must 
be  pruned  to  be  made  fruitful,  and  sickness  does  this, 
God  will  prune  His  people,  but  not  hew  them  down ; 
th<2  right  hand  of  His  mercy  knows  what  the  left  hand 
of  His  severity  is  doing.  There  is  as  much  difference 


524  SICKNESS. 

between  the  suffering's  of  the  saints  and  those  of  the 
ungodly,  as  between  the  cords  with  which  an  execu- 
tioner pinions  a  condemned  malefactor,  and  the  band 
ages  wherewith  a  tender  surgeon  binds  his  patient. 

Sickness  and  disease  are,  in  weak  minds,  the 
sources  of  melancholy ;  but  that  which  is  painful  to 
the  body  may  be  profitable  to  the  soul.  Sickness,  the 
mother  of  modesty,  puts  us  in  mind  of  our  mortality, 
and  while  we  drive  on  heedlessly  in  the  full  career 
of  worldly  pomp  and  jollity,  kindly  pulls  us  by  the 
ear,  and  brings  us  to  a  proper  sense  of  our  duty. 

A  minister  was  recovering  of  a  dangerous  illness, 
when  one  of  his  friends  addressed  him  thus :  "  Sir, 
though  God  seems  to  be  bringing  you  up  from  the 
gates  of  death,  yet  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  you 
will  sufficiently  retrieve  your  strength  and  regain 
vigor  enough  of  mind  to  preach  as  usual."  The  good 
man  answered:  "You  are  mistaken,  my  friend;  for 
this  six  weeks'  illness  has  taught  me  more  divinity 
than  all  my  past  studies  and  all  my  ten  years'  ministry 
put  together." 

Dr.  Payson  being  ill,  a  friend  coming  into  his  room 
remarked,  in  a  familiar  way:  "Well,  I  am  sorry  to 
see  you  lying  here  on  your  back."  "Do  you  know 
what  God  puts  us  on  our  backs  for?"  asked  Dr.  Pay- 
son,  smiling.  "No,"  was  the  answer.  "In  order 
that  we  may  look  upward."  His  friend  said  to  him, 
"I  am  not  come  to  condole  but  to  rejoice  with  you, 
for  it  seems  to  me  that  this  is  no  time  for  mourning." 
"Well,  I  am  glad  to  hear  that,"  was  the  reply,  "it  is 
not  often  that  I  am  addressed  in  such  a  way.  The 


TEARS.  525 

fact  is  I  never  had  less  need  of  condolence,  and  yet 
everybody  persists  in  offering  it ;  whereas,  when  I 
was  prosperous  and  well,  and  a  successful  preacher, 
and  really  needed  condolence,  they  flattered  and  con- 
gratulated me."  Whom  the  Lord  loveth  He  chas- 
teneth,  and  if  we  endure  chastening,  God  dealeth 
with  us  as  with  sons  and  daughters. 


9 


THERE  is  a  sacredness  in  tears.  They  are  not  the 
mark  of  weakness,  but  of  power.  They  speak  more 
eloquence  than  ten  thousand  tongues.  They  are  the 
messages  of  overwhelming  grief,  of  deep  contrition, 
of  unspeakable  love.  If  there  were  wanting  any 
argument  to  prove  that  man  is  not  mortal,  I  would 
look  for  it  in  the  strong  convulsive  emotions  of  the 
breast,  when  the  soul  has  been  deeply  agitated  ;  when 
the  fountains  of  feeling  are  rising,  and  when  tears  are 
gushing  forth  in  crystal  streams.  O,  speak  not  harshly 
of  the  stricken  one  —  weeping  in  silence!  Break  not 
the  solemnity  by  rude  laughter,  or  intrusive  footsteps. 
Despise  not  woman's  tears  —  they  are  what  make  her 
an  anofel.  Scoff  not  if  the  stern  heart  of  manhood  is 

o 

sometimes  melted  to  sympathy  —  they  are  what  help 
to  elevate  him  above  the  brute.  We  love  to  see  tears 
of  affection.  They  are  painful  tokens,  but  still  most 
holy.  There  is  pleasure  in  tears  —  an  awful  pleasure. 
If  there  were  none  on  earth  to  shed  a  tear  for  us,  we 


626  TEARS. 

should  be  loth  to  live ;  and  if  no  one  might  weep  over 
our  grave,  we  could  never  die  in  peace. 

Genuine  tears  are  the  involuntary  and  faithful  ex- 
pressions of  the  soul.  The  soul's  sorrow  or  joy  — 
for  joy  weeps  —  guilt  or  innocence  —  for  insulted  vir- 
tue has  its  tears  —  glistens  in  the  pearly  drop. .  Tears 
relieve  the  soul ;  they  are  prevailing  orators ;  they 
win  triumphs  which  neither  the  infernal  sword,  nor 
divine  speech  could  ever  achieve.  A  true  tear  is 
electric  to  the  true.  A  tear  dropped  in  the  silence  of 
a  sick  chamber  often  rings  in  heaven  with  a  sound 
which  belongs  not  to  earthly  trumpets  or  bells. 

Tears  generally  tremble  in  our  eyes  when  we  are 
happy,  and  glisten  like  pearls,  or  dew-drops  on  the 
flower  cup  ;  but  when  we  first  realize  any  overwhelm- 
ing and  unlocked  for  happiness,  we  gaze  round  with 
a  smile  of  bewildered  ecstacy,  and  no  tears  tremble 
in  our  eyes.  The  extremes  of  joy  and  sorrow  are 
too  great,  too  deep  for  tears. 

Tender,  holy  and  sanctifying  are  human  tears — 
crystals  of  affection  and  pity — jewels  of  the  souL 
One  trickled  on  the  cheek  of  a  child.  It  had  been 
crossed  in  the  fulfillment  of  some  anticipation,  and 
from  a  grieved  heart  gushed  up  the  sympathizing  tear. 
Another  trembled  from  the  eyelid  of  youth.  He  had 
felt  the  touch  of  a  bitter  reproof,  or  of  disappointed 
love,  and  to  soften  his  brain  and  sorrow  came  the 
same  beautiful  tear. 

O,  ye  tears !  what  a  mission  have  ye  wrought  in 
our  sorrowing  world  !  How  tenderly  worshiped  on 
the  altars  of  pity  and  sincere  love  —  how  gloriously 


TEARS.  .  52? 

sanctified  repentance  and  grief!  Down  in  the  damp 
cell  where  the  martyr  rattles  his  chains  ;  in  the  dun- 
geon where  the  patriot  waits  for  the  block  —  ye  have 
performed,  O  tears  !  the  same  blessed  work.  Even 
to  joy  ye  have  been  a  balm  of  oil  —  a  refiner's  fire. 
When  the  Macedonian  passed  the  pillar  of  Hercules, 
he  was  conquered  by  tears  —  the  same  tears  that 
sprang  but  now,  like  dew-drops,  from  the  lashes  of 
yon  blue-eyed  child.  For  what  different  ends,  and 
yet  unchanged,  have  ye  wrought.  Every  moment 
mellowing  and  calming  some  sad,  worn  heart  —  aye, 
every  day  doing  some  mission  for  each  of  our  souls. 
Ye  have  gushed  over  battle-fields  and  over  festive 
halls  ;  around  the  bier  and  the  board  ;  and  deeper, 
holier,  have  been  our  loves  and  our  friendliness  with 
each  return  of  your  hallowed  feet  —  aye,  feet!  for 
tears  have  feet,  and  they  come  treading  up  the  soul 
like  so  many  angels,  offering  sacrifices  through  our 


Repress  them  not,  child  —  they  are  a  purifying  vent 
to  thy  young  heart.  Repress  them  not,  O  youth  — 
they  are  good  and  holy  for  thee.  Repress  them  not, 
mother  —  for  unto  thee  God  has  given  them  to  be  a 
comforter  in  the  lone  and  bitter  hour.  And  thou, 
manhood,  quench  not  the  fountain  whose  upheaving 
is  the  most  beautiful  manifestation  of  thy  spiritual  life. 
Tears,  beautiful,  blessed  tears,  be  ever  with  every 
reader  —  with  us  all;  our  token  when  we  sigh  for  the 
absent,  or  weep  for  the  lost  —  a  sacred  witness  that 
our  regrets  and  sorrows  are  sincere. 

It  is   a  striking  fact  that  the    dying    never  weep. 


528  SORROW. 

The  sobbing,  the  heart-breaking-  agony  of  the  circle 
of  friends  around  the  death-bed,  calls  forth  no 
responsive  tears  from  the  dying.  Is  it  because  he  is 
insensible,  and  stiff  in  the  chill  of  dissolution  ?  That 
cannot  be,  for  he  asks  for  his  father's  hand,  as  if  to 
gain  strength  in  the  mortal  struggle,  and  leans  on  the 
breast  of  his  mother,  sister  or  brother,  in  still  con- 
scious affection.  Just  before  expiring,  he  calls  the 
loved  ones,  and  with  quivering  lips  says  :  "  Kiss  me," 
showing  that  the  love  which  he  has  borne  in  his  heart 
is  still  fresh  and  warm.  It  must  be  because  the  dying 
have  reached  a  point  too  deep  for  earthly  sorrows, 
too  transcendent  for  weeping.  They  are  face  to  face 
with  higher  and  holier  things,  with  the  Father  in 
Heaven  and  His  Angels.  There  is  no  weeping 
in  that  blessed  abode  to  which  the  dying  man  is. 
hastening. 


Give  Sorrow  words  :  the  grief,  that  does  not  speak, 
Whispers  the  o'erfraught  Heart,  and  bids  it  break. 

—  SHAKSPEARE. 

HE  who  tastes  only  the  bitter  in  the  cup  of  life,, 
who  looks  only  at  the  clouds  which  lower  in  one 
quarter  of  the  heavens,  while  the  sun  is  shining 
cheerily  in  another,  who  persists  in  pricking  and 
scratching  himself  with  the  thorn,  and  refuses  to 
enjoy  the  fragrance  of  the  rose,  is  an  ingrate  to  God, 
and  a  torment  to  himself. 


SORROW.  529 

The  record  of  human  life  is  far  more  melancholy 
than  its  course  ;  the  hours  of  quiet  enjoyment  are  not 
noted ;  the  thousand  graces  and  happiness  of  social 
life,  the  loveliness  of  nature  meeting  us  at  every  step, 
the  buoyancy  of  spirit  resulting  from  health  and  pure 
air,  the  bright  sun,  the  starry  firmament  —  all  that 
cheers  man  on  his  road  through  his  probationary 
state,  that  warms  the  heart  and  makes  life  pleasant — 
is  omitted  in  the  narrative,  which  can  only  deal  with 
facts ;  and  we  read  of  disappointment,  and  sickness, 
and  death,  and  exclaim,  "Why  is  man  born  to  sor- 
row ?"  He  is  not  so. 

Sorrows  are  only  tempest  clouds :  when  afar  off, 
they  look  black,  but  when  above  us  scarcely  gray. 
Sorrow  is  the  night  of  the  mind.  What  would  be  a 
day  without  its  night?  The  day  reveals  one  sun 
only ;  the  night  brings  to  light  the  whole  of  the  uni- 
verse. The  analogy  is  complete.  Sorrow  is  the 
firmament;  of  thought  and  the  school  of  intelligence. 
Men  that  are  wise,  as  the  bees  draw  honey  from  the 
thyme,  which  is  a  most  unsavory  and  dry  herb,  extract 
something  that  is  convenient  and  useful  even  from 
the  most  bitter  afflictions. 

Great  undertakings  require  the  Christian's  faith  to 
endure  the  deep  and  overwhelming  experiences  of 
human  sorrow  without  relinquishing  their  cherished 
life-work.  The  world  in  its  bitterest  forms  of  oppres- 
sion spent  itself  upon  Tasso,  Dante,  and  Milton,  in 
vain.  Redeemed,  exalted,  purified,  they  came  forth 
from  the  abyss  of  anguish,  and  sang  to  theiafellows 
a  song  which  those  who  have  never  suffered,  could 
34 


530  SORROW. 

never  utter.  Alas  !  how  many  richly  freighted  souls 
have  sunk  in  the  angry  billows  that  came  rushing  in 
their  furious  strength  only  to  bend  beneath  these 
master-spirits  and  bear  them  up  to  immortality. 
Sweetest  of  all  songs  are  the  Psalms  in  the  night. 
David  sang  with  the  most  touching  tenderness  when 
in  the  gloom  of  deepest  affliction.  The  heart  may 
wail  a  miserere  over  its  dead  or  its  dying,  but  even 
that  will  be  sadly  sweet,  and  will  have  a  hope  in  it. 
The  saddest  song  is  better  than  none,  because  it  is  a 
song. 

Sorrow  is  one  of  God's  own  angels  in  the  land. 
Her  pruning-knife  may  not  spare  the  tender  buds  of 
hope  that  make  glad  the  garden  of  the  soul,  but  her 
fingers  sow  the  seeds  of  a  quick  sympathy  with  the 
woes  of  a  common  humanity,  which,  springing  into 
leaf,  and  bud,  and  blossom,  send  perfume  and  beauty 
into  the  waste  places  of  lonely  lives,  and  permeate 
with  fragrant  incense  the  soil  that  gave  them  birth. 

The  simplest  and  most  obvious  use  of  sorrow  is  to 
remind  us  of  God.  It  would  seem  that  a  certain  shock 
is  needed  to  bring  us  in  contact  with  reality.  We  are 
not  conscious  of  breathing  till  obstruction  makes  it 
felt.  We  are  not  aware  of  the  possession  of  a  heart 
till  some  disease,  some  sudden  joy  or  sorrow,  rouses 
it  into  extraordinary  action.  And  we  are  not  conscious 
of  the  mighty  cravings  of  our  half  divine  humanity : 
we  are  not  aware  of  the  God  within  us  till  some  chasm 
yawns  which  must  be  filled,  or  till  the  rending  asun- 
der of  our  affections  forces  us  to  become  fearfully 
conscious  of  a  need. 


SORROW. 

To  mourn  without  measure,  is  folly ;  not  to  mourn 
at  all,  is  insensibility.  God  says  to  the  fruit  tree, 
bloom  and  bear ;  and  to  the  human  heart,  bear  and 
bloom  —  the  soul's  great  blossoming  is  the  flower  of 
suffering.  As  the  sun  converts  clouds  into  a  glorious 
drapery,  firing  them  with  gorgeous  hues,  and  draping 
the  whole  horizon  with  its  glorious  costume,  and 
writing  victory  in  fiery  colors  along  the  vanquished 
front  of  every  cloud,  so  sometimes  a  radiant  heart 
lets  forth  its  hope  upon  its  sorrow  and  all  the  black- 
ness flies,  and  troubles  that  trooped  to  appal  seem  to 
crowd  around  as  a  triumphal  procession  following  the 
steps  of  a  victor. 

There  are  people  who  think  that  to  be  grim  is  to 
be  good,  and  that  a  thought,  to  be  really  wholesome, 
must  necessarily  be  shaped  like  a  coffin.  They 
seem  to  think  that  black  is  -the  color  of  heaven,  and 
that  the  more  they  can  make  their  faces  look  like 
midnight,  the  holier  they  are. 

The  days  of  darkness  come,  and  they  are  many, 
but  our  eye  takes  in  only  the  first.  One  wave  hides 
another,  and  the  effort  to  encounter  the  foremost  with- 
draws our  thought  from  evils  which  are  pressing  on. 
If  we  could  see  them  all  at  once  we  might  lie  down, 
like  Elijah,  under  the  juniper  tree,  and  say,  "  It  is 
enough  —  let  me  not  live  !"  But  patience  attains  her 
perfect  work  while  trials  unfold.  The  capacity  of 
sorrow  belongs  to  our  grandeur;  and  the  loftiest  of 
our  race  are  those  who  have  had  the  profoundest 
grief,  because  they  have  had  the  profoundest  sym- 
pathies. 


532  SORROW. 

Sorrow  comes  soon  enough  without  despondency; 
it  does  a  man  no  good  to  carry  around  a  lightning- 
rod  to  attract  trouble.  When  a  gloom  falls  upon  us, 
it  may  be  we  have  entered  into  the  cloud  that  will 
give  its  gentle  showers  to  refresh  and  strengthen  us. 
Heavy  burdens  of  sorrow  seem  like  a  stone  hung 
round  our  neck,  yet  they  are  often  only  like  the  stone 
used  by  pearl  divers,  which  enables  them  to  reach 
the  prize  and  rise  enriched. 

There  are  sorrows  too  sacred  to  be  babbled  to  the 
world,  and  there  may  be  loves  which  one  would 
forbear  to  whisper  even  to  a  friend.  Real  sorrow  is 
not  clamorous.  It  seeks  to  shun  every  eye,  and 
breathes  in  solitude  and  silence  the  sighs  that  come 
from  the  heart.  Every  heart  has  its  secret  sorrow, 
which  the  world  knows  not ;  and  oftentimes  we  call  a 
man  cold  when  he  is  only  sad.  Give  not  thy  mind  to 
heaviness ;  the  gladness  of  the  heart  is  the  life  of 
man,  and  joyfulness  of  a  man  prolongeth  his  days. 
Remove  sorrow  far  from  thee,  for  sorrow  hath  killed 
many,  and  there  is  no  profit  therein ;  and  carefulness 
bringeth  age  before  the  time. 

We  are  inclined  to  think  that  the  causes  of  our 
sorrows  are  sent  to  us  from  above  ;  often  we  weep, 
we  groan  in  our  spirits,  and  we  murmur  against  God  ; 
but  he  leaves  us  to  our  sorrow,  and  we  are  saved ; 
our  present  grief  saves  from  an  eternal  sorrow.  It 
would  be  well,  however,  if  we  attempted  to  trace  the 
cause  of  them ;  we  should  probably  find  their  origin 
in  some  region  of  the  heart  which  we  never  had  well 
explored,  or  in  which  we  had  secretly  deposited  our 


SORROW.  533 

worst  indulgences.  The  clouds  that  intercept  the 
heavens  from  us,  come  not  from  the  heavens,  but 
from  the  earth.  Excess  of  sorrow  is  as  foolish  as 
continued  laughter.  Loud  mirth,  or  immoderate  sor- 
row, inequality  of  behavior,  either  in  prosperity  or 
adversity  are  alike  ungraceful  in  man  who  is  born  to 
die.  Some  are  refined,  like  gold,  in  the  furnace ; 
others,  like  chaff,  are  consumed  in  it.  Sorrow,  when 
it  is  excessive,  takes  away  fervor  from  piety,  vigor 
from  action,  health  from  body,  light  from  reason,  and 
repose  from  the  conscience. 

Those  who  work  hard  seldom  yield  themselves 
entirely  up  to  fancied  or  real  sorrow.  When  grief  sits 
down,  folds  its  hands  and  mournfully  feeds  upon  its 
own  tears,  weaving  the  dim  shadows,  that  a  little 
exertion  might  sweep  away  into  a  funeral  pall,  the 
strong  spirit  is  shorn  of  its  might,  and  sorrow  be- 
comes our  master.  When  troubles  flow  upon  you, 
dark  and  heavy,  toil  not  with  the  waves  ;  wrestle  not 
with  the  torrent ;  rather  seek,  by  occupation,  to 
divert  the  dark  waters  that  threaten  to  overwhelm 
you,  into  a  thousand  channels  which  the  duties  of 
life  always  present.  Before  you  dream  of  it,  those 
waters  will  fertilize  the  present,  and  give  birth  to 
fresh  flowers  that  may  brighten  the  future  —  flowers 
that  will  become  pure  and  holy,  in  the  sunshine  which 
penetrates  to  the  path  of  duty,  in  spite  of  every 
obstacle.  Grief,  after  all,  is  but  a  selfish  feeling ;  and 
most  selfish  is  the  man  who  yields  himself  to  the 
indulgence  of  any  passion  which  brings  no  joy  to  his 
fellow  man. 


534  SORROW. 

They  are  the  true  kings  and  queens,  heroes  and 
heroines,  who,  folding  a  pall  of  tenderest  memory 
over  the  faces  of  their  own  lost  hopes  and  perished 
loves,  go  with  unfaltering  courage,  to  grapple  with 
the  future,  to  strengthen  the  weak,  to  comfort  the 
weary,  to  hang  sweet  pictures  of  faith  and  trust  in 
the  silent  galleries  of  sunless  lives,  and  to  point  the 
desolate,  whose  paths  wind  ever  among  shadows  and 
over  rocks  where  never  the  green  moss  grows,  to  the 
golden  heights  of  the  hereafter,  where  the  palms  of 
victory  wave. 

Difficulties  are  things  that  show  what  men  are.  In 
case  of  any  difficulty,  remember  that  God,  like  a 
gymnastic  trainer,  has  pitted  you  against  a  rough 
antagonist.  For  what  end  ?  That  you  may  be  an 
Olympic  conqueror,  and  this  cannot  be  without  toil. 
He  who  has  great  affliction  is  made  of  sterner  stuff 
than  most  men.  God  seems  to  have  selected  him, 
like  second  growth  timber,  for  important  work.  It  is 
not  every  one  that  can  be  trusted  to  suffer  greatly. 
God  has  confidence  in  him  to  the  extent  of  the 
affliction. 

Causeless  depression  is  not  to  be  reasoned  with, 
nor  can  David's  harp  charm  it  away,  by  sweet  dis- 
coursings.  As  well  fight  with  the  mist  as  with  this 
shapeless,  undefinable,  yet  all-beclouding  hopeless- 
ness. If  those  who  laugh  at  such  melancholy  did 
but  feel  the  grief  of  it  for  one  hour,  their  laughter 
would  be  sobered  into  compassion.  Resolution 
might,  perhaps,  shake  it  off,  but  where  are  we  to 
find  the  resolution,  when  the  whole  man  is  unstrung? 


SORROWING  FOR  THE  DEAD.          535 

It  is  a  poor  relief  for  sorrow  to  fly  to  the  distrac- 
tions of  the  world ;  as  well  might  a  lost  and  wearied 
bird,  suspended  -over  the  abyss  of  the  tempestuous 
ocean,  seek  a  resting-  place  on  its  heaving-  waves,  as 
the  child  of  trouble  seek  a  place  of  repose  amid  the 
bustling  cares  and  intoxicating  pleasures  of  earth  and 
time.  Christ  is  a  refuge  and  "a  very  present  help 
in  trouble." 


OUR  friends  may  die  and  leave  our  hearts  and  homes 
desolate  for  a  time ;  we  cannot  prevent  it,  nor  would 
it  be  best  if  we  could.  Sorrow  has  its  useful  lessons 
when  it  is  legitimate,  and  death  is  the  gate  that  opens 
out  of  earth  toward  the  house  "eternal  in  the  heav- 
ens." If  we  lose  them,  heaven  gains  them.  If  we 
mourn,  they  rejoice.  If  we  hang  our  harps  on  the 
willows,  they  tune  theirs  in  the  eternal  orchestra  above, 
rejoicing  that  we  shall  soon  be  with  them.  Shall  we 
not  drown  our  sorrow  in  the  flood  of  light  let  through 
the  rent  veil  of  the  skies  which  Jesus  entered,  and, 
to  cure  our  loneliness,  gather  to  us  other  friends  to 
walk  life's  way,  knowing  that  every  step  brings  us 
nearer  the  departed,  and  their  sweet,  eternal  home, 
which  death  never  enters,  and  where  partings  are 
never  known  ?  \Ve  may  still  love  the  departed. 
They  are  ours  as  ever,  and  we  are  theirs.  The  ties 


536          SORROWING  FOR  THE  DEAD. 

that  unite  us  are  not  broken.  They  are  too  strong 
for  death's  stroke.  They  are  made  for  the  joys  of 
eternal  friendship.  Other  friendships  on  earth  will 
not  disturb  these  bonds  that  link  with  dear  ones  on 
high.  Nor  will  our  duties  below  interfere  with  the 
sacredness  of  our  relations  with  them.  They  wish 
not  to  see  us  in  sorrow.  They  doubtless  sympathize 
with  us,  and  could  we  hear  their  sweet  voices,  they 
would  tell  us  to  dry  our  tears  and  bind  ourselves  to 
other  friends,  and  joyfully  perform  all  duties  on  earth 
till  our  time  to  ascend  shall  come. 

"The  sorrow  for  the  dead,"  says  Irving,  "is  the 
only  sorrow  from  which  we  refuse  to  be  divorced. 
Every  other  wound  we  seek  to  heal,  every  other 
affliction  to  forget ;  but  this  wound  we  consider  it  a 
duty  to  keep  open ;  this  affliction  we  cherish  and 
brood  over  in  solitude. 

"Where  is  the  mother  who  would  willingly  forget 
the  infant  that  perished  like  a  blossom  from  her  arms, 
though  every  recollection  is  a  pang?  Where  is  the 
child  that  would  willingly  forget  the  most  tender  of 
parents,  though  to  remember  be  but  to  lament  ?  Who, 
even  in  the  hour  of  agony,  would  forget  the  friend 
over  whom  he  mourns?  Who,  even  when  the  tomb 
is  closing  upon  the  remains  of  her  he  most  loved, 
when  he  feels  his  heart,  as  it  were,  crushed  in  the 
closing  of  its  portal,  would  accept  of  consolation  that 
must  be  bought  by  forgetfulness  ? 

"No,  the  love  which  survives  the  tomb  is  one  of 
the  noblest  attributes  of  the  soul.  If  it  hac  its  woes, 
it  has  likewise  its  delights  ;  and  when  the  o* 


SORROWING  FOR  THE  DEAD.          537 

ing  burst  of  grief  is  calmed  into  the  gentle  tear  of 
recollection,  when  the  sudden  anguish  and  the  con- 
vulsive agony  over  the  ruins  of  all  that  we  most  loved 
is  softened  away  into  pensive  meditation  on  all  that 
k  was  in  the  days  of  its  loveliness,  who  would  root 
out  such  a  sorrow  from  the  heart  ? 

"Though  it  may  sometimes  throw  a  passing  cloud 
over  the  bright  hour  of  gayety,  or  spread  a  deeper 
sadness  over  the  hour  of  gloom,  yet  who  would 
exchange  it  even  for  the  song  of  pleasure  or  the  burst 
of  revelry?  No,  there  is  a  voice  from  the  tomb 
sweeter  than  song.  There  is  a  remembrance  of  the 
dead  to  which  we  turn  even  from  the  charms  of  the 
living. 

"  Oh,  the  grave  !  the  grave  !  It  buries  every  error, 
covers  every  defect,  extinguishes  every  resentment. 
From  its  peaceful  bosom  spring  none  but  fond  regrets 
and  tender  recollections.  Who  can  look  upon  the 
grave  even  of  an  enemy  and  not  feel  a  compunctious 
throb  that  he  should  ever  have  warred  with  the  poor 
handful  of  earth  that  lies  moldering  before  him  ?  , 

"But  the  grave  of  those  we  loved,  what  a  place 
for  meditation !  There  it  is  that  we  call  up  in  long 
review  the  whole  history  of  virtue  and  gentleness, 
and  the  thousand  endearments  lavished  upon  us 
almost  unheeded  in  the  daily  intercourse  of  intimacy. 
There  it  is  that  we  dwell  upon  the  tenderness,  the 
solemn,  awful  tenderness  of  the  parting  scene. 

"The  bed  of  death,  with  all  its  stifled  griefs,  its 
noiseless  attendants,  its  mute,  watchful  assiduities, 
the  last  testimonies  of  expiring  love,  the  feeble, 


538          SORROWING  FOR  THE  DEAD. 

fluttering,  thrilling-,  oh,  how  thrilling !  pressure  of  the 
hand.  The  last  fond  look  of  the  glazing  eye,  turn- 
ing upon  us  even  from  the  threshold  of  existence. 
The  faint,  faltering  accents  struggling  in  death  to 
give  one  more  assurance  of  affection.  Ay,  go  to  the 
grave  of  buried  love,  and  meditate !  There  settle 
the  account  with  thy  conscience  for  every  past  benefit 
unrequited,  every  past  endearment  unregarded,  ©f 
that  departed  being  who  can  never  —  never  —  never 
return  to  be  soothed  by  thy  contrition  ! 

"If  thou  art  a  child,  and  hast  ever  added  a  sorrow 
to  the  soul  or  a  furrow  to  the  silver  brow  of  an  affec- 
tionate parent ;  if  thou  art  a  husband,  and  hast  ever- 
caused  the  fond  bosom  that  ventured  its  whole 
happiness  in  thy  arms,  to  doubt  one  moment  of  thy 
kindness  or  thy  truth ;  if  thou  art  a  friend,  and  hast 
ever  wronged,  in  thought,  or  word,  or  deed,  the  spirit 
that  generously  confided  in  thee  ;  if  thou  art  a  lover, 
and  hast  given  one  unmerited  pang  to  that  true  heart 
which  now  lies  cold  and  still  beneath  thy  feet,  then 
bfe  sure  that  every  unkind  look,  every  ungracious 
word,  every  ungentle  action,  will  come  thronging 
back  upon  thy  memory,  and  knocking  dolefully  at  thy 
soul ;  then  be  sure  that  thou  wilt  lie  down  sorrowing 
and  repentant  on  the  grave,  and  utter  the  unheard 
groan,  and  pour  the  unavailing  tear,  more  deep,  more 
bitter,  because  unheard  and  unavailing. 

"Then  weave  thy  chaplet  of  flowers,  and  strew  the 
beauties  of  nature  about  the  grave ;  console  thy 
broken  spirit,  if  thou  canst,  with  these  tender,  yet 
futile  tributes  of  regret;  but  take  warning  by  the 


ADVERSITY.  539 

bitterness  of  this  thy  contrite  affliction  over  the  dead, 
and  henceforth  be  more  faithful  and  affectionate  in 
the  discharge  of  thy  duties  to  the  living." 


The  good  are  better  made  by  ill  :- 
As  odors  crush'd  are  sweeter  still  ! 

— ROGERS. 

THE  harp  holds  in  its  wires  the  possibilities  of 
noblest  chords ;  yet,  if  they  be  not  struck,  they  must 
hang  dull  and  useless.  So  the  mind  is  vested  with  a 
hundred  powers,  that  must  be  smitten  by  a  heavy 
hand  to  prove  thenselves  the  offspring  of  divinity. 

Welcome,  then,  adversity !  Thy  hand  is  cold  and 
hard,  but  it  is  the  hand  of  a  friend !  Thy  voice  is 
stern  and  harsh,  but  it  is  the  voice  of  a  friend ! 
There  is  something  sublime  in  the  resolute,  fixed 
purpose  of  suffering  without  complaining,  which 
makes  disappointment  often  better  than  success. 

As  full  ears  load  and  lay  corn,  so  does  too  much 
fortune  bend  and  break  the  mind.  It  deserves  to  be 
considered,  too,  as  another  advantage,  that  affliction 
moves  pity,  and  reconciles  our  very  enemies ;  but 
prosperity  provokes  envy,  and  loses  us  our  very 
friends.  Again,  adversity  is  a  desolate  and  aban- 
doned state  ;  the  generality  of  people  are  like  those 
infamous  animals  that  live  only  upon  plenty  and 
rapine ;  and  as  rats  and  mice  forsake  a  tottering 


540  ADVERSITY. 

house,  so  clo  these  the  falling  man.  He  that  has 
never  known  adversity  is  but  half  acquainted  with 
others  or  with  himself.  Constant  success  shows  us 
but  one  side  of  the  world;  for  as  it  surrounds  us 
with  friends  who  tell  us  only  of  our  merits,  so  it 
silences  those  enemies  from  whom  only  we  can  learn 
our  defects. 

Adversity,  sage,  useful  guest, 
Severe  instructor,  but  the  best  ; 
It  is  from  thee  alone  we  know 
Justly  to  value  things  below. 

Adversity  exasperates  fools,  dejects  cowards,  draws 
out  the  faculties  of  the  wise  and  industrious,  puts  the 
modest  to  the  necessity  of  trying  their  skill,  awes  the 
opulent,  and  makes  the  idle  industrious.  A  smooth 
sea  never  made  a  skillful  mariner,  neither  do  uninter- 
rupted prosperity  and  success  qualify  men  for  useful- 
ness and  happiness.  The  storms  of  adversity,  like 
those  of  the  ocean,  rouse  the  faculties,  and  excite  the 
invention,  prudence,  skill,  and  fortitude  bf  the  voyager. 
The  martyrs  of  ancient  times,  in  bracing  their  minds 
to  outward  calamities,  acquired  a  loftiness  of  purpose 
and  a  moral  heroism  worth  a  lifetime  of  softness  and 
security. 

It  is  good  for  man  that  he  bear  the  yoke  in  his  youth. 
Oaks  are  made  hard  by  strong  discipline.  As  a  glad- 
iator trained  the  body,  so  must  we  train  the  mind  to 
self-sacrifice,  "to  endure  all  things,"  to  meet  and 
overcome  difficulty  and  danger.  We  must  take  the 
rough  and  thorny  roads  as  well  as  the  smooth  and 
pleasant;  and  a  portion  at  least  of  our  daily  duty 


ADVERSITY. 


must  be  hard  and  disagreeable  ;  for  the  mind  cannot 
be  kept  strong-  and  healthy  in  perpetual  sunshine  only, 
and  the  most  dangerous  of  all  states  is  that  of  con- 
stantly recurring  pleasure,  ease  and  prosperity. 

It  seems  as  if  man  were  like  the  earth.  It  cannot 
bask  forever  in  sunshine.  The  snows  of  winter  and 
frosts  must  come  and  work  in  the  ground  and  mellow 
it  to  make  them  fruitful.  A  man  upon  whom  contin- 
uous sunshine  falls  is  like  the  earth  in  August  ;  he 
becomes  parched  and  dry,  and  hard  and  close-grained. 
To  some  men  the  winter  and  spring  come  when  they 
are  young  ;  others  are  born  in  summer  and  are  only 
made  fit  to  die  by  a  winter  of  sorrow  coming  to  them 
when  they  are  middle-aged  or  old. 

I-.  is  not  the  nursling  of  wealth  or  fortune  who  has 
been  dandled  into  manhood  on  the  lap  of  prosperity, 
that  carries  away  the  world's  honors,  or  wins  its 
mightiest  influence  ;  but  it  is  rather  the  man  whose 
earlier  years  were  cheered  by  scarcely  a  single  proffer 
of  aid,  or  smile  of  approbation,  and  who  has  drawn 
from  adversity  the  elements  of  greatness.  The 
"talent"  which  prosperity  "folded  in  a  napkin,"  the 
rough  hand  of  adversity  shook  out. 

The  men  who  stand  boldly  for  the  defense  of  the 
truth,  in  the  midst  of  the  flood  of  errors  that  surround 
them,  are  not  the  gentlemen  of  lily  fingers  who  have 
been  rocked  in  the  cradle  of  indulgence  and  caressed 
in  the  lap  of  luxury;  but  they  are  the  men  whom 
necessity  has  called  from  the  shade  of  retirement  to 
contend  under  the  scorching  rays  of  the  sun,  with 
the  stern  realities  of  life  with  all  its  vicissitudes.  It 


542  ADVERSITY. 

is  good  for  a  man  that  he  bear  the  yoke  in  his  youth. 
The  gem  cannot  be  polished  without  friction,  nor  man 
perfected  without  adversity.  * 

The  patient  conquest  of  difficulties  which  rise  in 
the  regular  and  legitimate  channels  of  business  and 
enterprise,  is  nor  only  essential  in  securing  the  suc- 
cesses which  you  seek,  but  it  is  essential  to  the  pre- 
paration of  your  mind  requisite  for  the  enjoyment  of 
your  successes  and  for  retaining  them  when  gained. 

Adversity  is  the  trial  of  principle.  Without  it  a 
man  hardly  knows  whether  he  be  honest  or  not. 
Night  brings  out  the  stars  as  adversity  shows  us 
truths ;  we  never  see  the  stars  till  we  can  see  little  or 
naught  else ;  and  thus  it  is  with  truth.  When  you 
feel  inclined  to  cry,  just  change  your  mind  and  laugh. 
Nothing  dries  sooner  than  tears. 

Adversity  certainly  has  its  uses,  and  very  valuable 
ones  too.  It  has  been  truly  remarked  that  many  a 
man,  in  losing  his  fortune,  has  found  himself.  Ad- 
versity flattereth  no  man.  Oft  from  apparent  ills  our 
blessings  rise.  Who  never  fasts,  no  banquet  e'er 
enjoys.  In  prosperity,  be  humble ;  in  adversity, 
cheerful.  If  you  have  the  blues,  go  and  see  the 
poorest  and  sickest  families  within  your  knowledge. 
To  bear  the  sharp  afflictions  of  life  like  men,  we 
should  also  feel  them  like  men.  The  darker  the 
setting,  the  brighter  the  diamond.  Probably  we 
might  often  become  reconciled  to  what  we  consider  a 
hard  lot  by  comparing  ourselves  with  the  many  who 
want  what  we  possess  rather  than  with  the  few  who 
possess  what  we  want.  He  is  happy  whose  circum- 


DEBT.  543 

stances  suit  his  temper  ;  but  he  is  happier  who  can 
suit  his  temper  to  his  circumstances.  There  is  a 
virtue  in  keeping-  up  appearances.  He  is  a  fool  that 
grumbles  at  every  little  mischance.  Put  the  best 
foot  forward,  is  an  old  and  good  maxim.  Don't  run 
about  and  tell  acquaintances  that  you  have  been 
unfortunate ;  people  do  not  like  to  have  unfortunate 
men  for  acquaintances.  If  the  storm  of  adversity 
whistles  around  you,  whistle  as  bravely  yourself;  per- 
haps the  two  whistles  may  make  melody. 


WHILE  you  are  generous,  see  to  it  that  you  are 
also  just.  Do  not  give  away  what  does  not  belong 
to  you.  Let  us  warn  you,  on  account  of  its  moral 
bearings,  against  debt.  Nothing  more  effectually 
robs  one  of  his  best  energies,  takes  the  bloom  from 
his  cheek  and  peace  from  his  pillow,  than  pecuniary 
obligations.  And  that  is  not  all,  nor  the  worst ;  debt 
is  a  foe  to  a  man's  honesty.  Avoid  all  meanness ; 
but  shun  as  a  pestilence  the  habit  of  running  thought- 
lessly into  debt.  Let  your  expenses  be  always  short 
of  your  income. 

"Of  what  a  hideous  progeny  of  ill,"  says  Douglas 
Jerrold,  "is  debt  the  father!  What  meanness,  what 
invasions  of  self-respect,  what  cares,  what  double- 
dealing!  How  in  due  season  it  will  carve  the  frank, 
open  face  into  wrinkles ;  how  like  a  knife  it  will  stab 


544  DEBT. 

the  honest  heart.  And  then  its  transformations. 
How  it  has  been  known  to  change  a  goodly  face  into 
a  mask  of  brass ;  how  with  the  evil  custom  of  debt, 
has  the  true  man  become  a  callous  trickster !  A  free- 
dom from  debt,  and  what  nourishing-  sweetness  may 
be  found  in  cold  water ;  what  toothsomeness  in  a  dry 
crust ;  what  ambrosial  nourishment  in  a  hard  egg ! 
Be  sure  of  it,  he  who  dines  out  of  debt,  though  his 
meal  be  a  biscuit  and  an  onion,  dines  in  a  banquet 
hall.  And  then,  for  raiment,  what  warmth  in  a  thread- 
bare coat,  if  the  tailor's  receipt  be  in  your  pocket ! 
What  Tyrian  purple  in  the  faded  waistcoat,  the  vest 
not  owed  for ;  how  glossy  the  well  worn  hat,  if  it 
covers  not  the  aching  head  of  a  debtor !  Next  the 
home  sweets,  the  out-door  recreation  of  the  free  man. 
The  street  door  falls  not  a  knell  on  his  heart ;  the 
foot  of  the  staircase,  though  he  lives  on  the  third 
pair,  sends  no  spasms  through  his  anatomy ;  at  the 
rap  of  his  door  he  can  crow  'come  in,'  and  his  pulse 
still  beats  healthfully,  his  heart  sinks  not  in  his  bowels. 
See  him  abroad !  How  he  returns  look  for  look  with 
any  passenger ;  how  he  saunters ;  now  meeting  an 
acquaintance,  he  stands  and  gossips,  but  then  this 
man  knows  no  debt ;  debt  that  casts  a  drug  in  the 
richest  wine ;  that  makes  the  food  of  the  gods  un- 
wholesome, indigestible  ;  that  sprinkles  the  banquets 
of  a  Lucullus  with  ashes,  and  drops  soot  in  the  soup 
of  an  emperor ;  debt  that  like  the  moth,  makes  val- 
ueless furs  and  velvets,  inclosing  the  wearer  in  a 
festering  prison,  (the  shirt  of  Nessus  was  a  shirt  not 
paid  for;)  debt  that  writes  upon  frescoed  halls  the 


DEBT. 


545 


handwriting  of  the  attorney ;  that  puts  a  voice  of 
terror  in  the  knocker ;  that  makes  the  heart  quake 
at  the  haunted  fireside ;  debt,  the  invisible  demon 
that  walks  abroad  with  a  man,  now  quickening-  his 
steps,  now  making  him  look  on  all  sides  like  a  hunted 
beast,  and  now  bringing  to  his  face  the  ashy  hue  of 
death  as  the  unconscious  passenger  looks  glancingly 
upon  him !  Poverty  is  a  bitter  draught,  yet  may, 
and  sometimes  can,  with  advantage,  be  gulped  down. 
Though  the  drinker  makes  wry  faces,  there  may, 
after  all,  be  a  wholesome  goodness  in  the  cup.  But 
debt,  however  courteously  it  may  be  offered,  is  the 
cup  of  the  siren ;  and  the  wine,  spiced  and  delicious 
though  it  be,  is  poison.  The  man  out  of  debt,  though 
with  a  flaw  in  his  jerkin,  a  crack  in  his  shoe  leather, 
and  a  hole  in  his  hat,  is  still  the  son  of  liberty,  free  as 
the  singing  lark  above  him ;  but  the  debtor,  although 
clothed  in  the  utmost  bravery,  what  is  he  but  a  serf 
out  upon  a  holiday  —  a  slave  to  be  reclaimed  at  any 
instant  by  his  owner,  the  creditor?  My  son,  if  poor, 
see  Hyson  in  the  running  spring;  see  thy  mouth 
water  at  a  last  week's  roll ;  think  a  threadbare  coat 
the  only  wear ;  and  acknowledge  a  whitewashed 
garret  the  fittest  housing  place  for  a  gentleman ;  do 
this,  and  flee  debt.  So  shall  thy  heart  be  at  rest  and 
the  sheriff  confounded." 

Somebody  truly  says  that  one  debt  begets  another. 
If  a  man  owes  you  a  dollar,  he  is  sure  to  owe  you  a 
grudge,  too,  and  he  is  generally  more  ready  to  pay 
interest  on  the  latter  than  on  the  former.  Contract- 
ing debts  is  not  unlike  the  man  who  goes  to  sea  without 

35 


546  DEBT. 

a  compass  —  he  may  steer  clear  of  rocks,  sand-bars, 
a  lee  shore,  and  breakers,  but  the  chances  are 
greatly  against  him ;  and,  if  he  runs  foul  of  either, 
ten  to  one  he  is  lost.  The  present  indiscriminate 
credit  system  is  a  labyrinth,  the  entrance  is  easy,  but 
how  to  get  out  —  that's  the  question.  It  is  an  endless 
chain,  and  if  one  link  breaks  in  a  particular  commu- 
nity, it  degrades  the  whole.  The  concussion  may 
break  many  more,  create  a  panic,  and  the  chain 
become  useless.  If  this  misfortune  would  cure  the 
evil,  it  would  be  a  blessing  in  disguise ;  but  so  deeply 
rooted  is  this  system  among  us,  that  no  sooner  is  one 
chain  destroyed  than  another  is  manufactured;  an 
increasing  weight  is  put  upon.it;  presently  some  of 
its  links  snap,  another  concussion  is  produced,  and 
creates  a  new  panic ;  car  after  car  rushes  down  the 
inclined  plane  of  bankruptcy,  increasing  the  mass  of 
broken  fragments  and  general  ruin,  all  so  commingled 
that  a  Philadelphia  lawyer,  aided  by  constables  and 
sheriffs,  can  bring  but  little  order  out  of  the  confusion. 
At  the  outset,  especially  among  merchants,  a  ruinous 
tax  is  imposed  by  this  system  upon  the  vendor  and 
vendee.  The  seller,  in  addition  to  a  fair  profit  for 
cash  in  hand,  adds  a  larger  per  cent,  to  meet  losses 
from  bad  debts,  but  which  often  falls  far  short  of  the 
mark.  Each  purchaser,  who  is  ultimately  able  to 
pay,  bears  the  proportionate  burden  of  this  tax,  and 
both  contribute  large  sums  to  indulge  those  who  can- 
not, and  what  is  worse,  those  who  never  intend  to 
pay ;  thus  encouraging  fraud.  On  every  hand  we 
see  people  living  on  credit,  putting  off  pay-day  to  the 


DEBT.  547 

last,  making  in  the  end  some  desperate  effort,  either 
by  begging  or  borrowing,  to  scrape  the  money 
together,  and  then  struggling  on  again,  with  the 
canker  of  care  eating  at  their  heart,  to  the  inevitable 
goal  of  bankruptcy.  If  people  would  only  make  a 
push  at  the  beginning,  instead  of  the  end,  they  would 
save  themselves  all  this  misery.  The  great  secret  of 
being  solvent,  and  well-to-do,  and  comfortable,  is  to 
get  ahead  of  your  expenses.  Eat  and  drink  this 
month  wnat  you  earned  last  month  —  not  what  you 
are  going  to  earn  next  month.  There  are,  no  doubt, 
many  persons  so  unfortunately  situated  that  they  can 
never  accomplish  this.  No  man  can  to  a  certainty 
guard  against  ill  health ;  no  man  can  insure  himself  a 
well-conducted,  helpful  family,  or  a  permanent  income. 
Friendships  are  broken  over  debts ;  forgeries  and 
murders  are  committed  on  their  account ;  and,  how- 
ever considered,  they  are  a  source  of  cost  and  annoy- 
ance—  and  that  continual!}.  They  break  in  every- 
where upon  the  harmonious  relations  of  men  ;  they 
render  men  servile  or  tyrannous,  as  they  chance  to  be 
debtors  or  creditors ;  they  blunt  sensitiveness  to  per- 
sonal independence,  and,  in  no  respect  that  we  can 
fathom,  do  they  advance  the  general  well-being. 


548  FAILURE. 


IN  every  community  there  are  men  who  are  deter- 
mined not  to  work  if  work  can  be  shirked.  Without 
avowing-  this  determination  to  themselves,  or  reflect- 
ing that  they  are  fighting-  against  a  law  of  nature, 
they  begin  life  with  a  resolution  to  enjoy  all  the  good 
things  that  are  accumulated  by  the  labor  of  man, 

o  * 

without  contributing-  their  own  share  of  labor  to  the 
common  stock.  Hence  the  endless  schemes  for  getting 
rich  in  a  day — for  reaching  the  goal  of  wealth  by  a 
few  gigantic  bounds,  instead  of  by  slow  and  plodding 
steps.  It  matters  not  in  what  such  men  deal,  whether 
in  oroide  watches  or  in  watered  stock ;  whether  they 
make  "corners"  in  wheat  or  in  gold;  whether  they 
gamble  in  oats  or  at  roulette ;  whether  they  steal  a 
railway  or  a  man's  money  by  "gift-concerts"  —  the 
principle  is  in  all  cases  the  same,  namely,  to  obtain 
something  for  nothing,  to  get  values  without  parting 
with  anything  in  exchange.  Everybody  knows  the 
history  of  such  men,  the  vicissitudes  they  experience 
—  vicissitudes  rendering  the  millionaire  of  to-day  a 
beggar  to-morrow. 

Firms  are  constantly  changing.  Splendid  mansions 
change  hands  suddenly.  A  brilliant  party  is  held  in 
an  up-town  house,  the  sidewalk  is  carpeted,  and  the 
papers  are  full  of  the  brilliant  reception.  The  next 
season  the  house  will  be  dismantled,  and  a  family, 
"going  into  the  country,"  or  "to  Europe,"  will  offer 


FAILURE.  549 

their  imported  furniture  to  the  public  under  the  ham- 
mer. A  brilliant  equipage  is  seen  in  the  parks  in  the 
early  part  of  the  season,  holding  gaily  dressed  ladies 
and  some  successful  speculators.  Before  the  season 
closes  some  government  officer  or  sporting  man  will 
drive  that  team  on  his  own  account,  while  the  gay 
party  that  called  the  outfit  their  own  in  the  early  part 
of  the  season  have  passed  away  forever.  This  grows 
out  of  the  manner  in  which  business  is  done.  There 
is  no  thrift,  no  forecast,  no  thought  for  the  morrow. 
A  man  who  makes  fifty  thousand  dollars,  instead  of 
settling  half  of  it  on  his  wife  and  children,  throws  the 
wrhole  into  a  speculation  with  the  expectation  of 
making  it  a  hundred  thousand.  A  successful  dry 
goods  jobber,  who  has  a  balance  of  seventy-five 
thousand  dollars  to  his  credit  in  the  bank,  instead  of 
holding  it  for  a  wet  day  or  a  tight  time,  goes  into  a 
little  stock  speculation  and  hopes  to  make  a  fortune 
at  a  strike.  Men  who  have  a  good  season  launch 
out  into  extravagancies  and  luxuries,  and  these,  with 
the  gambling  mania,  invariably  carry  people  under. 

A  gentleman,  who  had  a  very  successful  trade,  built 
him  an  extraordinary  country  seat  in  Westchester 
county,  which  was  the  wonder  of  the  age.  His  house 
was  more  costly  than  the  palace  of  the  Duke  of  Buc- 
cleuch.  His  estate  comprised  several  acres  laid  out 
in  the  most  expensive  manner,  and  the  whole  was 
encircled  with  gas  lights,  several  hundred  in  number, 
which  were  lit  every  evening.  As  might  have  been 
expected,  with  the  first  reverse,  (and  it  comes  sooner 
or  later  to  all,)  the  merchant  was  crushed,  and  as  he 


550  FAILURE. 

thought  disgraced ;  and  he  was  soon  carried  to  his 
sepulchre,  the  wife  obliged  to  leave  her  luxurious 
home,  and  by  the  kindness  of  creditors  was  allowed, 
with  her  children,  to  find  temporary  refuge  in  the 
coachman's  loft  in  her  stable. 

Americans  are  always  in  a  hurry  when  they  have 
an  object  to  accomplish ;  but  if  there  be  any  vocation 
or  pursuit  in  which  gradual,  slow-coach  processes  are 
scouted  with  peculiar  detestation,  it  is  that  of  acquir- 
ing riches.  Especially  is  this  true  at  the  present  day, 
when  fortunes  are  continually  changing  hands,  and 
men  are  so  often,  by  a  lucky  turn  of  the  wheel,  lifted 
from  the  lowest  depths  of  poverty  to  the  loftiest  pin- 
nacle of  wealth  and  affluence.  Exceptional  persons 
there  are,  who  are  content  with  slow  gains — willing 
to  accumulate  riches  by  adding  penny  to  penny,  dollar 
to  dollar ;  but  the  mass  of  business  men  are  too  apt 
to  despise  such  a  tedious,  laborious  ascent  of  the 
steep  of  fortune,  and  to  rush  headlong  into  schemes 
for  the  sudden  acquisition  of  wealth.  Hence  honor- 
able labor  is  too  often  despised ;  a  man  of  parts  is 
expected  to  be  above  hard  work. 

There  is,  with  a  great  majority  of  men,  a  want  of 
constancy  in  whatever  plans  they  undertake.  They 
toil  as  though  they  doubted  that  life  had  earnest  and 
decided  pathways ;  as  though  there  were  no  compass 
but  the  shifting  winds,  with  each  of  which  they  must 
change  their  course.  Thus  they  beat  about  on  the 
ocean  of  time,  but  never  cross  it,  to  rest  on  delightful 
islands  or  mainlands. 


DESPAIR.  551 


No  CALAMITY  can  produce  such  paralysis  of  the 
mind  as  despair.  It  is  the  cap  stone  of  the  climax  of 
human  anguish.  The  mental  powers  are  frozen  with 
indifference,  the  heart  becomes  ossified  with  melan- 
choly, the  soul  is  shrouded  in  a  cloud  of  gloom.  No 
words  of  consolation,  no  cheerful  repartee,  can  break 
the  death-like  cairn ;  no  love  can  warm  the  pent-up 
heart ;  no  sunbeams  dispel  the  dark  clouds.  Time 
may  effect  a  change ;  death  will  break  the  monotony. 
We  can  extend  our  kindness,  but  cannot  relieve  the 
victim.  We  may  trace  the  causes  of  this  awful  dis- 
ease ;  God  only  can  effect  a  cure.  \Ve  may  speculate 
upon  its  nature,  but  cannot  feel  its  force  until  its  iron 
hand. is  laid  upon  us.  We  may  call  it  weakness,  but 
cannot  prove  or  demonstrate  the  proposition.  We 
may  call  it  folly,  but  can  point  to  no  frivolity  to  sus- 
tain our  position.  We  may  call  it  madness,  but  can 
discover  no  maniac  actions.  We  may  call  it  stub- 
bornness, but  can  see  no  exhibitions  of  indocility. 
We  may  call  it  lunacy,  but  cannot  perceive  the  inco- 
herences of  that  unfortunate  condition.  We  can  call 
it,  properly,  nothing  but  dark,  gloomy  despair,  an 
undefined  and  undefinable  paralysis  of  all  the  sensibil- 
ities that  render  a  man  happy,  and  capable  of  impart- 
ing happiness  to  those  around  him.  It  is  a  state  of 
torpid  dormancy,  rather  than  a  mental  derangement 
of  the  cerebral  organs. 


562  DESPAIR. 

Me  miserable  !     which  way  shall  I  fly 
Infinite  wrath,  and  infinite  despair  ? 
Which  way  I  fly  is  hell ;  myself  am  hell  ? 
And  in  the  lowest  deep  a  lower  deep 
Still  threat'ning  to  devour  me  opens  wide, 
To  which  the  hell  I  suffer  seems  a  heaven. 

— MILTON. 

It  is  induced  by  a  false  estimate  of  things,  and  of 
the  dispensations  and  government  of  the  God  of 
mercy.  Disappointments,  losses,  severe  and  con- 
tinued afflictions,  sudden  transition  from  wealth  to 
poverty,  the  death  of  dear  friends,  may  cast  a  gloom 
over  the  mind  that  does  not  correctly  comprehend  the 
great  first  cause  and  see  the  hand  of  God  in  every 
thing,  and  produce  a  state  of  despair,  because  these 
things  are  viewed  in  a  false  mirror.  Fanaticism  in 
religious  meetings  has  produced  the  most  obstinate 
ancf  melancholy  cases  of  despair  that  have  come  under 
our  own  observation.  Intelligence,  chastened  by 
religion,  are  the  surest  safeguards  against  this  state 
of  misery ;  ignorance  and  vice  are  its  greatest  pro- 
moters. Despair  is  the  destruction  of  all  hope,  the 
deathless  sting  that  refines  the  torment  of  the  finally 
impenitent  and  lost.  It  is  that  undying  worm,  that  un- 
quenchable fire,  so  graphically  described  in  Holy  Writ. 

Remember  this,  that  God  always  helps  those  who 
help  themselves,  that  he  never  forsakes  those  who 
are  good  and  true,  and  that  he  heareth  even  the 
young  ravens  when  they  cry.  Moreover,  remember 
too,  that  come  what  may,  we  must  never  give  up  in 
life's  battle,  but  press  onward  to  the  end,  always 
keeping  in  mind  the  words  —  NEVER  DESPAIR. 


STEPPING    STONES.  553 

Despair  is  the  death  of  the  soul.  If  we  will  sym- 
pathize with  God's  system  of  salvation,  there  is  no 
occasion  for  despondency  or  a  feeling-  of  condemna- 
tion, as  we  discover  our  defects  from  time  to  time ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  of  cheerful  hopefulness,  and 
confidence  of  this  very  thing,  that  "He  who  hath 
begun  a  good  work  in  us  will  perform  it  until  the  day 
of  Jesus  Christ." 


STEPPING  STONES  are  advantages,  auxiliaries,  power, 
•etc.,  and  these  are  attained  in  no  other  way  than 
through  personal  experiences.  Our  trials  of  life 
strengthen  us ;  discouragements,  disappointments, 
misfortunes,  failures,  adversities,  and  calamities,  are 
all  stepping  stones  for  us ;  each  successive  victory 
raises  us  higher  in  strength  and  power.  It  is  through 
trials  that  stout  hearts  are  made.  It  is  through 
adversities  that  our  patience  and  courage  are  in- 
creased. 

Men  are  frequently  like  tea — the  real  strength  and 
goodness  is  not  properly  drawn  out  of  them  till 
they  have  been  a  short  time  in  hot  water.  The 
ripest  fruit  grows  on  the  roughest  wall.  It  is  the  small 
wheels  of  the  carriage  that  come  in  first.  The  man 
who  holds  the  ladder  at  the  bottom  is  frequently  of 
more  service  than  he  who  is  stationed  at  the  top  of  it 


554  STEPPING    STONES. 

The  turtle,  though  brought  in  at  a  rear  gate,  takes 
the  head  of  the  table.  "Better  to  be  the  cat  in  the 
philanthropist's  family  than  a  mutton  pie  at  a  king's 
banquet." 

He  who  bears  adversity  well  gives  the  best  evidence 
that  he  will  not  be  spoiled  by  prosperity.  Many  a 
promising  reputation  has  been  destroyed  by  early 
success.  It  is  far  from  being  true,  in  the  progress  of 
knowledge,  that  after  every  failure  we  must  recom- 
mence from  the  beginning.  Every  failure  is  a  step 
to  success ;  every  detection  of  what  is  false  directs 
us  toward  what  is  true ;  every  trial  exhausts  some 
tempting  form  of  error.  Not  only  so,  but  scarcely 
any  attempt  is  entirely  a  failure  ;  scarcely  any  theory, 
the  result  of  steady  thought,  is  altogether  false ;  no 
tempting  form  of  error  is  without  some  latent  charm 
derived  from  truth. 

Doubtless  a  deeper  feeling  of  individual  responsi- 
bility, and  a  better  adaptation  of  talent  to  its  fields  of 
labor,  are  necessary  to  bring  about  a  better  state  of 
society,  and  a  better  condition  for  the  individual 
members  of  it.  But  with  the  most  careful  adaptation 
of  talent  and  means  to  pursuits,  no  man  can  succeed, 
as  a  general  principle,  who  has  not  a  fixed  and  reso- 
lute purpose  in  his  mind,  and  an  unwavering  faith 
that  he  can  carry  that  purpose  out. 

Man  is  born  a  hero,  and  it  is  only  by  darkness  and 
storms  that  heroism  gains  its  greatest  and  best  devel- 
opment and  illustration ;  then  it  kindles  the  black 
cloud  into  a  blaze  of  glory,  and  the  storm  bears  it 
rapidly  to  its  destiny.  Despair  not,  then,  disappoint- 


STEPPING    STONES.  555 

ment  will  be  realized.  Mortifying  failure  may  attend 
this  effort  and  that  one ;  but  only  be  honest  and 
struggle  on,  and  it  will  all  work  well. 

What  though  once  supposed  friends  have  disclaimed 
and  deserted  thee  —  fortune,  the  jade,  deceived  thee 
—  and  the  stern  tyrant,  adversity,  roughly  asserted 
his  despotic  power  to  trample  thee  down?  "While 
there's  life  there's  hope."  Has  detraction's  busy 
tongue  assailed  thy  peace,  and  contumely's  venomed 
shaft  poisoned  thy  happiness,  by  giving  reputation  its 
death  blow ;  destroyed  thy  confidence  in  friendly 
promise,  and  rendered  thee  suspicious  of  selfishness 
in  the  exhibition  of  brotherly  kindness ;  or  the  tide 
of  public  opinion  well  nigh  overwhelmed  thee  'neath 
its  angry  waves  ?  Never  despair.  Yield  not  to  the 
influence  of  sadness,  the  blighting  power  of  dejection, 
which  sinks  thee  in  degrading  inaction,  or  drives  thee 
to  seek  relief  in  some  fatal  vice,  or  to  drown  recol- 
lection in  the  poisoning  bowl.  Arouse,  and  shake  the 
oppressive  burden  from  overpowering  thee.  Quench 
the  stings  of  slander  in  the  waters  of  Lethe ;  bury 
despondency  in  oblivion ;  fling  melancholy  to  the 
winds,  and  with  firm  bearing  and  a  stout  heart  push 
on  to  the  attainment  of  a  higher  goal.  The  open 
field  for  energetic  action  is  large,  and  the  call  for  vig- 
orous laborers  immensely  exceed  the  supply.  Much 
precious  time  is  squandered,  valuable  labor  lost, 
mental  activity  stupified  and  deadened  by  vain  regrets, 
useless  repinings,  and  unavailing  idleness.  The 
appeal  for  volunteers  in  the  great  battle  of  life,  in 
exterminating  ignorance  and  error,  and  planting  high 


556  PRAYER. 

on  an  everlasting  foundation  the  banner  of  intelli- 
gence and  right,  is  directed  to  thee,  wouldst  thou  but 
grant  it  audience.  Let  no  cloud  again  darken  thy 
spirit,  or  weight  of  sadness  oppress  thy  heart.  Arouse 
ambition's  smouldering  fires.  The  laurel  may  e'en 
now  be  wreathed  destined  to  grace  thy  brow.  Burst 
the  trammels  that  impede  thy  progress,  and  cling  to 
hope.  The  world  frowned  darkly  upon  all  who  have 
ever  yet  won  fame's  wreath,  but  on  they  toiled. 
Place  high  thy  standard,  and  with  a  firm  tread  and 
fearless  eye  press  steadily  onward.  Persevere,  and 
thou  wilt  surely  reach  it.  Are  there  those  who  have 
watched,  unrewarded,  through  long  sorrowful  years, 
for  the  dawning  of  a  brighter  morrow,  when  the 
weary  soul  should  calmly  rest?  Hope's  bright  rays 
still  illume  their  dark  pathways,  and  cheerfully  they 
watch.  Never  despair  f  Faint  not,  though  thy  task 
be  heavy,  and  victory  is  thine.  None  should  despair ; 
God  can  help  them.  None  should  presume ;  God 
can  cross  them. 


PRAYER  is  an  action  of  likeness  to  the  Holy  Ghost, 
the  spirit  of  gentleness  and  dove-like  simplicity ;  an 
imitation  of  the  Holy  Jesus,  whose  spirit  is  meek,  and 
a  conformity  to  God,  whose  anger  is  always  just,  and 
marches  slowly,  and  is  without  transportation,  and 
often  hindered  and  never  hasty,  and  is  full  of  mercy. 


PRAYER.  557 

Prayer  is  the  peace  of  our  spirit,  the  stillness  of  our 
thoughts,  the  evenness  of  recollection,  the  seat  of 
meditation,  the  rest  of  our  cares,  and  the  calm  of  our 
tempest ;  prayer  is  the  issue  of  a  quiet  mind,  of 
untroubled  thoughts ;  it  is  the  daughter  of  charity, 
and  the  sister  of  meekness ;  and  he  who  prays  to 
God  with  an  angry,  that  is,  with  a  troubled  and  dis- 
composed spirit,  is  like  him  who  retires  into  a  battle 
to  meditate,  and  sets  up  his  closet  in  the  out-quarters 
of  an  army,  and  chooses  a  frontier  garrison  to  be 
wise  in.  Anger  is  a  perfect  alienation  of  the  mind 
from  prayer,  and  therefore  is  contrary  to  that  atten- 
tion which  presents  our  prayers  in  a  right  line  to  God. 
For  so  have  we  seen  a  lark  rising  from  his  bed  of 
grass,  and  soaring  upward,  singing  as  it  rises,  and 
hoping  to  get  to  heaven,  and  climb  above  the  clouds ; 
but  the  poor  bird  was  beaten  back  with  the  loud  sigh- 
ings  of  an  eastern  wind,  and  his  motion  made 
irregular  and  inconstant,  descending  more  at  every 
breath  of  the  tempest  than  it  could  recover  by  the 
libration  and  frequent  weighing  of  his  wings ;  till  the 
little  creature  was  forced  to  sit  down  and  pant,  and 
stay  till  the  storm  was  over ;  and  then  it  made  a 
prosperous  flight,  and  did  rise  and  sing  as  if  it  had 
learned  music  and  motion  from  an  angel,  as  he  passed 
sometimes  through  the  air  about  his  ministries  here 
below :  so  is  the  prayer  of  a  good  man :  when  his 
affairs  have  required  business,  and  his  business  was 
matter  of  discipline,  and  his  discipline  was  to  pass 
upon  a  sinning  person,  or  had  a  design  of  charity, 
his  duty  met  with  the  infirmities  of  a  man,  and  anger 


558  PRAYER. 

was  its  instrument,  and  the  instrument  became  stronger 
than  the  prime  agent,  and  raised  a  tempest,  and  over- 
ruled the  man ;  and  then  his  prayer  was  broken,  and 
his  thoughts  were  troubled,  and  his  words  went  up 
toward  a  cloud,  and  his  thoughts  pulled  them  back 
again,  and  made  them  without  intention,  and  the  good 
man  sighs  for  his  infirmity,  but  must  be  content  to 
lose  the  prayer,  and  he  must  recover  it  when  his 
anger  is  removed,  and  his  spirit  is  becalmed,  made 
even  as  the  brow  of  Jesus,  and  smooth  like  the  heart 
of  God ;  and  then  it  ascends  to  heaven  upon  the 
wings  of  the  holy  dove,  and  dwells  with  God,  till  it 
returns,  like  the  useful  bee,  laden  with  a  blessing 
and  the  dew  of  heaven. 

God  respects  not  the  arithmetic  of  our  prayers, 
how  many  they  are ;  nor  the  rhetoric  of  our  prayers, 
how  neat  they  are ;  nor  the  geometry  of  our  prayers, 
how  long  they  are ;  nor  the  music  of  our  prayers,  how 
melodious  they  are ;  nor  the  logic  of  our  prayers, 
how  methodical  they  are — but  the  divinity  of  our 
prayers,  how  heart-sprung  they  are.  •  Not  gifts,  but 
graces,  prevail  in  prayer.  Perfect  prayers,  without  a 
spot  or  blemish,  though  not  one  word  be  spoken, 
and  no  phrases  known  to  mankind  be  tampered  with, 
always  pluck  the  heart  out  of  the  earth  and  move  it 
softly  like  a  censer,  to  and  fro,  beneath  the  face  of 
heaven. 

Prayer  is  a  constant  source  of  invigoration  to  self- 
discipline  ;  not  the  thoughtless  praying,  which  is  a 
thing  of  custom,  but  that  which  is  sincere,  intense, 
watchful.  Let  a  man  ask  himself  whether  he  really 


PRAYER.  559 

would  have  the  thing  he  prays  for;  let  him  think, 
while  he  is  praying-  for  a  spirit  of  forgiveness,  whether, 
even  at  that  moment,  he  is  disposed  to  give  up  the 
luxury  of  anger.  If  not,  what  a  horrible  mockery  it 
is !  Do  not  say  you  have  no  convenient  place  to 
pray  in.  Any  man  can  find  a  place  private  enough, 
if  he  is  disposed.  Our  Lord  prayed  on  a  mountain, 
Peter  on  the  house-top,  Isaac  in  the  field,  Nathaniel 
under  the  fig-tree,  Jonah  in  the  whale's  belly.  Any 
place  may  become  a  closet,  an  oratory,  and  a  bethel, 
and  be  to  us  the  presence  of  God. 

To  present  a  petition  is  one  thing;  to  prosecute  a 
suit  is  another.  Most  prayers  answer  to  the  former ; 
but  successful  prayer  corresponds  to  the  latter.  God's 
people  frequently  lodge  their  petition  in  the  court  of 
heaven  and  there  they  let  it  lie.  They  do  not  press 
their  suit.  They  do  not  employ  other  means  of  fur- 
thering it  beyond  the  presenting  of  it.  The  whole 
of  prayer  does  not  consist  in  taking  hold  of  God. 
The  main  matter  is  holding  on.  How  many  are 
induced  by  the  slightest  appearance  of  repulse  to  let 
go,  as  Jacob  did  not !  We  have  been  struck  with  the 
manner  in  which  petitions  are  usually  concluded  — 
"And  your  petitioners  will  ever  pray."  So  "men 
ought  always  pray  (to  God)  and  never  faint."  Pay- 
son  says,  "The  promise  of  God  is  not  to  the  act,  but 
to  the  habit  of  prayer." 

Though  prayer  should  be  the  key  of  the  day,  and 
the  lock  of  the  night,  yet  we  hold  it  more  needful  in 
the  morning,  than  when  our  bodies  do  take  theii 
repose.  For  howsoever  sleep  be  the  image  or  shadow 


560  PRAYER. 

of  death  —  and  when  the  shadow  is  so  near,  the 
substance  cannot  be  far — yet  a  man  at  rest  in  his 
chamber  is  like  a  sheep  impenned  in  the  fold ;  subject 
only  to  the  unavoidable  and  more  immediate  hand  of 
God :  whereas  in  the  day,  when  he  roves  abroad  in 
the  open  and  wide  pastures,  he  is  then  exposed  to 
many  more  unthought-of  accidents,  that  contingently 
and  casually  occur  in  the  way :  retiredness  is  more  safe 
than  business :  who  believes  not  a  ship  securer  in  the 
bay  than  in  the  midst  of  the  boiling  ocean  ?  Besides, 
the  morning  to  the  day,  is  as  youth  to  the  life  of  a 
man  :  If  that  be  begun  well,  commonly  his  age  is 
virtuous :  otherwise,  God  accepts  not  the  latter  ser- 
vice, when  his  enemy  joys  in  the  first  dish.  Why 
should  God  take  the  dry  bones,  when  the  devil  hath 
sucked  the  marrow  out? 

Not  a  few,  too,  owe  their  escape  from  skepticism 
and  infidelity  to  its  sacred  influence.  Said  the  noted 
John  Randolph,  "I  once  took  the  French  side  in  pol- 
itics ;  and  I  should  have  been  a  French  atheist,  if  it 
had  not  been  for  one  recollection ;  and  that  was  the 
memory  of  the  time  when  my  departed  mother  used 
to  take  my  little  hands  in  hers,  and  cause  me  on  my 
knees  to  say,  'Our  Father,  who  art  in  heaven." 

"  The  parent  pair  their  secret  homage  pay, 
And  offer  up  to  heaven  the  warm  request, 

That  he  who  stills  the  raven's  clamorous  nest, 
And  decks  the  lily  fair  in  flowery  pride, 

Would,  in  the  way  His  wisdom  sees  the  best, 
For  them  and  for  their  little  ones  provide. >; 


THERE    IS    A    GOD. 


THERE  is  a  God !  The  herbs  of  the  valley,  the 
cedars  of  the  mountain,  bless  him ;  the  insect  sports  in 
his  beam  ;  the  bird  sings  Him  in  the  foliage  ;  the  thun- 
der proclaims  Him  in  the  heavens ;  the  ocean  declares 
His  immensity ;  man  alone  has  said,  "There  is  no 
God !"  Unite  in  thought  at  the  same  instant  the 
most  beautiful  object  in  nature.  Suppose  that  you 
see  at  once  all  the  hours  of  the  day,  and  all  the  sea- 
sons of  the  year;  a  morning  of  spring,  and  a  morn- 
ing of  autumn ;  a  night  bespangled  with  stars,  and  a 
night  darkened  by  clouds ;  meadows  enameled  with 
flowers ;  forests  hoary  with  snow ;  fields  gilded  by  the 
tints  of  autumn ;  then  alone  you  will  have  a  just  con- 
ception of  the  universe!  While  you  are  gazing  on 
that  sun  which  is  plunging  into  the  vault  of  the  west, 
another  observer  admires  him  emerging  from  the 
gilded  gates  of  the  east.  By  what  inconceivable 
power  does  that  aged  star,  which  is  sinking,  fatigued 
and  burning,  in  the  shades  of  the  evening,  reappear 
at  the  same  instant  fresh  and  humid  with  the  rosy 
dew  of  the  morning  ?  At  every  hour  of  the  day  the 
glorious  orb  is  at  once  rising,  resplendent  as  noon- 
day, and  setting  in  the  west ;  or  rather,  our  senses 
deceive  us,  and  there  is,  properly  speaking,  no  east 
or  west,  no  north  or  south,  in  the  world. 

Go  out  beneath  the  arched  heavens,  at  night,  and 
say,  if  you  can,  "  There  is  no  God!"  Pronounce 
36 


THERE    IS    A    GOD. 


that  dreadful  blasphemy,  and  each  star  above  you  will 
reproach  the  unbroken  darkness  of  your  intellect; 
every  voice  that  floats  upon  the  night  winds  will 
bewail  your  utter  hopelessness  and  folly. 

Is  there  no  God  ?  Who,  then,  unrolled  the  blue 
scroll,  and  threw  upon  its  high  frontispiece  the  legible 
gleamings  of  immortality  ?  Who  fashioned  this  green 
earth,  with  its  perpetual  rolling  waters,  and  its  wide 
expanse  of  islands  and  of  main  ?  Who  settled  the 
foundations  of  the  mountains?  Who  paved  the 
heavens  with  clouds,  and  attuned,  amid  the  clamor  of 
storms,  the  voice  of  thunders,  and  unchained  the 
lightnings  that  flash  in  their  gloom  ? 

Who  gave  to  the  eagle  a  safe  eyrie  where  the  tem- 
pests dwell,  and  beat  the  strongest,  and  to  the  dove 
a  tranquil  abode  amid  the  forests  that  echo  to  the 
minstrelsy  of  her  moan  ?  Who  made  THEE,  O  man  ! 
with  thy  perfected  elegance  of  intellect  and  form? 
Who  made  the  light  pleasant  to  thee,  and  the  dark- 
ness a  covering,  and  a  herald  to  the  first  gorgeous 
flashes  of  the  morning? 

There  is  a  God.  All  nature  declares  it  in  a  lan- 
guage too  plain  to  be  misapprehended.  The  great 
truth  is  too  legibly  written  over  the  face  of  the  whole 
creation  to  be  easily  mistaken.  Thou  canst  behold  it 
in  the  tender  blade  just  starting  from  the  earth  in  the 
early  spring,  or  in  the  sturdy  oak  that  has  withstood 
the  blasts  of  fourscore  winters.  The  purling  rivulet, 
me'andering  through  downy  meads  and  verdant  glens, 
and  Niagara's  tremendous  torrent,  leaping  over  its 
awful  chasm,  and  rolling  in  majesty  its  broad  sheet 


THERE    IS    A    GOD.  553 

of  waters  onward  to  the  ocean,  unite  in  proclaiming 
"THERE  is  A  GOD." 

'Tis  heard  in  the  whispering  breeze  and  in  the 
howling-  storm ;  in  the  deep-toned  thunder,  and  in  the 
earthquake's  shock ;  'tis  declared  to  us  when  the 
tempest  lowers  ;  when  the  hurricane  sweeps  over  the 
land ;  when  the  winds  moan  around  our  dwellings, 
and  die  in  sullen  murmurs  on  the  plain,  when  the 
heavens,  overcast  with  blackness,  ever  and  anon  are 
illuminated  by  the  lightning's  glare. 

Nor  is  the  truth  less  solemnly  impressed  on  our 
minds  in  the  universal  hush  and  calm  repose  of 
nature,  when  all  is  still  as  the  soft  breathings  of  an 
infant's  slumber.  The  vast  ocean,  when  its  broad 
expanse  is  whitened  with  foam,  and  when  its  heaving 
waves  roll  mountain  on  mountain  high,  or  when  the 
dark  blue  of  heaven's  vault  is  reflected  with  beauty 
on  its  smooth  and  tranquil  bosom,  confirms  the  dec- 
laration. The  twinkling  star,  shedding  its  flickering 
rays  so  far  above  the  reach  of  human  ken,  and  the 
glorious  sun  in  the  heavens  —  all  —  declare  there  is  a 
universal  FIRST  CAUSE. 

And  man,  the  proud  lord  of  creation,  so  fearfully 
and  wonderfully  made  —  each  joint  in  its  correspond- 
ing socket  —  each  muscle,  tendon,  and  artery,  per- 
forming their  allotted  functions  with  all  the  precision 
of  the  most  perfect  mechanism — and,  surpassing  all, 
possessed  of  a  soul  capable  of  enjoying  the  most 
exquisite  pleasure,  or  of  enduring  the  most  excrucia- 
ting pain,  which  is  endowed  with  immortal  capacities, 
and  js  destined  to  live  onward  through  the  endless 


564  THE    BIBLE. 

ages  of  eternity  —  these  all  unite  in  one  genera! 
proclamation  of  the  eternal  truth  —  there  is  a  Being, 
infinite  in  wisdom,  who  reigns  over  all,  undivided  and 
supreme — the  fountain  of  all  life,  source  of  all  light 
—  from  whom  all  blessings  flow,  and  in  whom  all 
happiness  centres. 


THE  Bible  is  not  only  the  revealer  of  the  unknown 
God  to  man,  but  His  grand  interpreter  as  the  God  of 
nature.  In  revealing  God,  it  has  given  us  the  key 
that  unlocks  the  profoundest  mysteries  of  creation, 
the  clew  by  which  to  thread  the  labyrinth  of  the 
universe,  the  glass  through  which  to  look  "from 
nature  up  to  nature's  God." 

It  is  only  when  we  stand  and  gaze  upon  nature, 
with  the  Bible  in  our  hands,  and  its  idea  of  God  in 
our  understandings,  that  nature  is  capable  of  rising  to 
her  highest  majesty,  and  kindling  in  our  souls  the 
highest  emotions  of  moral  beauty  and  sublimity. 
Without  the  all-pervading  spiritual  God  of  the  Bible 
in  our  thoughts,  nature's  sweetest  music  would  lose 
its  charm,  the  universe  its  highest  significance  and 
glory. 

Go,  and  stand  with  your  open  Bible  upon  the  Areo- 
pagus of  Athens,  where  Paul  stood  so  long  ago  !  In 
thoughtful  silence,  look  around  upon  the  site  of  all 
that  ancient  greatness ;  look  upward  to  those  still 


THE     BIBLE.  555 

glorious  skies  of  Greece,  and  what  conceptions  of 
wisdom  and  power  will  all  those  memorable  scenes  of 
nature  and  art  convey  to  your  mind,  now,  more  than 
they  did  to  an  ancient  worshiper  of  Jupiter  or  Apollo  ? 
They  will  tell  of  Him  who  made  the  worlds,  "by 
whom,  and  through  whom,  and  for  whom,  are  all 
things."  To  you,  that  landscape  of  exceeding  beauty, 
so  rich  in  the  monuments  of  departed  genius,  with  its 
distant  classic  mountains,  its  deep  blue  sea,  and  its 
bright  bending  skies,  will  be  telling  a  tale  of  glory 
the  Grecian  never  learned ;  for  it  will  speak  to  you  no 
more  of  its  thirty  thousand  petty  contending  deities, 
but  of  the  one  living  and  everlasting  God. 

Go,  stand  with  David  and  Isaiah  under  the  star- 
spangled  canopy  of  the  night ;  and,  as  you  look  away 
to  the  "range  of  planets,  suns,  and  adamantine 
spheres  wheeling  unshaken  through  the  void  im- 
mense ;"  take  up  the  mighty  questionings  of  inspira- 
tion ! 

Go,  stand  upon  the  heights  at  Niagara,  and  listen 
in  awe-struck  silence  to  that  boldest,  most  earnest, 
and  most  eloquent  of  all  nature's  orators  !  And  what 
is  Niagara,  with  its  plunging  waters  and  its  mighty 
roar,  but  the  oracle  of  God,  the  whisper  of  His  voice 
who  is  revealed  in  the  Bible  as  sitting  above  the 
water-floods  forever! 

Who  can  stand  amid  scenes  like  these,  with  the 
Bible  in  his  hand,  and  not  feel  that  if  there  is  a  moral 
sublimity  to  be  found  on  earth,  it  is  in  the  Book  of 
God,  it  is  in  the  thought  of  God?  For  what  are 
all  these  outward,  visible  forms  of  grandeur  but  the 


THE    BIBLE. 


expression  and  the  utterance  of  that  conception  ot 
Deity  which  the  Bible  has  created  in  our  minds,  and 
which  has  now  become  the  leading  and  largest  thought 
of  all  civilized  nations  ? 

The  oldest  reliable  history  is  that  given  by  Moses : 
"And  God  said,  Let  there  be  light,  and  there  was 
light."  And  on  and  down,  for  four  thousand  years, 
the  sacred  volume  follows  the  fortunes  of  God's 
chosen  people.  And.  incidentally,  it  gives  us,  at  the 
same  time,  lighten  the  contemporary  nations  of  hea- 
thendom. See  what  it  has  done  for  science.  True, 
it  does  not  unfold  to  us  the  mysteries  of  geology, 
astronomy,  or  chemistry.  And  yet  it  does  train  the 
mind  for  its  loftiest  flights  and  its  broadest  explora- 
tions. "I  have  always  found,"  said  a  patron  of  the 
National  Institute  at  Washington,  "in  my  scientific 
studies,  that,  when  I  could  get  the  Bible  to  say  any- 
thing on  the  subject,  it  afforded  me  a  firm  platform  to 
stand  upon,  and  another  round  in  the  ladder,  by 
which  I  could  safely  ascend."  It  throws  its  beams 
into  the  temples  of  science  and  literature,  no  less 
than  those  of  religion ;  and  so  prepares  the  way  for 
man's  advancement  i'n  philosophy,  metaphysics,  and 
natural  sciences,  no  less  than  in  the  realm  of  ethics ; 
and,  as  it  saves  the  soul,  it  exalts  the  intellect. 

The  Bible  is  adapted  to  every  possible  variety  of 
taste,  temperament,  culture,  and  condition.  It  has 
strong  reasoning  for  the  intellectual ;  it  takes  the  calm 
and  contemplative  to  the  well-balanced  James,  and 
the  affectionate  to  the  loving  and  beloved  John.  The 
pensive  may  read  the  tender  lamentations  and  the 


THE    BIBLE.  557 

funeral  strains  of  Jeremiah.  Let  the  sanguine  com- 
mune with  the  graphic  and  creative  Joel ;  and  tho- 
plain  and  practical  may  go  to  the  wise  Ecclesiastes  or 
or  the  outspoken  Peter.  They  who  like  brilliant 
apothegms,  should  study  the  book  of  Proverbs ;  and 
the  lover  of  pastoral  and  quiet  delineations  may  dwell 
with  the  sweet  singer  of  Israel,  or  the  richly  endowed 
Amos  and  Hosea.  If  you  would  take  the  wings  of 
imagination,  and  leap  from  earth  to  heaven,  or  wan- 
der through  eternity,  then  open  the  Revelation ;  and 
pour  over  and  fill  yourself  with  the  glory  of  the  New 
Jerusalem ;  and  listen  to  the  seven  thunders ;  and 
gaze  on  the  pearly  gates  and  the  golden  streets  of 
the  heavenly  city. 

Not  only  is  this  book  precious  to  tne  poor  and 
unlearned ;  not  only  is  it  the  counselor  and  confidence 
of  the  great  middle  class  of  society,  both  spiritually 
and  mentally  speaking ;  but  the  scholar  and  the  sage, 
the  intellectual  monarchs  of  the  race,  bow  to  its 
authority.  It  has  encountered  the  scorn  of  a  Lucian, 
the  mystic  philosophy  of  a  Porphyry,  the  heartless 
skepticism  of  a  Hume,  the  lore  of  a  Gibbon,  the 
sneers  of  a  Voltaire,  the  rude  weapons  of  a  Paine, 
and  the  subtle,  many-sided  neology  of  modern  Ger- 
many. But  none  of  these  things  have  moved  it. 
Nay,  parallel  with  these  attempts  at  its  subjugation, 
and  triumphant  over  them  all,  have  advanced  the 
noble  works  of  such  commanding  intellects  as  New- 
ton, Chalmers,  Robert  Hall,  Bowditch,  Channing, 
testifying  that,  to  them,  the  Bible  bore  the  stamp  of  a 
special  revelation  and  the  seal  of  the  eternal  God. 


568  THE    BIBLE. 

To  multitudes  of  our  race  this  book  is  not  only  the 
foundation  of  their  religious  faith,  but  their  daily 
practical  guide.  It  has  taken  hold  of  the  world  as 
no  other  book  ever  did.  Not  only  is  it  read  in  all 
Christian  pulpits,  but  it  enters  every  habitation  from 
the  palace  to  the  cottage.  It  is  the  golden  chain 
which  binds  hearts  together  at  the  marriage  altar ;  it 
contains  the  sacred  formula  for  the  baptismal  rite.  It 
blends  itself  with  our  daily  conversation,  and  is  the 
silver  thread  of  all  our  best  reading,  giving  its  hue, 
more  or  less  distinctly,  to  book,  periodical,  and  daily 
paper.  When  the  g-ood  mother  parts  with  her  dear 
boy,  other  volumes  may  be  placed  in  his  hands,  but 
we  are  sure  that,  with  tearful  prayers,-  she  will  fold 
among  his  apparel  a  Bible.  On  the  seas  it  goes  with 
the  mariner,  as  his  spiritual  chart  and  compass  ;  and 
on  the  land  it  is  to  untold  millions  their  pillar-cloud 
by  day,  their  fire-column  by  night.  In  the  closet  and 
in  the  street,  amid  temptations  and  trials,  this  is  man's 
most  faithful  attendant,  and  his  strongest  shield.  It 
is  our  lamp  through  the  dark  valley ;  and  the  radiator 
of  our  best  light  from  the  solemn  and  unseen  future. 
Stand  before  it  as  a  mirror  and  you  will  see  there 
not  only  your  g-ood  traits,  but  errors,  follies,  and  sins, 
which  you  did  not  imagine  were  there  until  now. 
You  desire  to  make  constant  improvement.  Go  then 
to  the  Bible.  It  not  only  shows  the  way  of  all  pro- 
gress, but  it  incites  you  to  go  forward.  It  opens 
before  you  a  path  leading  up  and  still  upward,  along 
which  good  ang^els  will  cheer  you,  and  God  himself 
will  lend  you  a  helping  hand. 


THE    BIBLE. 


You  may  go  to  the  statesman  who  has  filled  the 
highest  office  in  this  country,  and  ask  him  whether 
his  cup  of  joy  has  been  full  ?  As  he  stands  by  at  the 
inauguration  of  his  successor,  his  shaded  brow  will 
tell  you  nay.  Ask  the  warrior,  coming  from  the  bat- 
tle-field, his  garments  rolled  in  blood,  Did  the  shouts 
of  victory  satiate  his  thirst  for  applause  ?  Bid  any 
of  the  godless  sons  of  literary  fame,  Frederic  of  Prus- 
sia, Byron,  or  Volney,  give  in  their  testimony  ;  and 
they  affirm,  in  one  gloomy  voice  : 

"  We've  drank  every  cup  of  joy,  heard  every  trump 
Of  fame  ;  drank  early,  deeply  drank,  drank  draughts 
That  common  millions  might  have  quenched  ;  —  then  died 
Of  thirst,  because  there  was  no  more  to  drink." 

But  never  a  human  being  went  to  the  Bible,  who 
did  not  find  His  words  true:  "But  whosoever  drink- 
eth  of  the  water  I  will  give  him,  shall  never  thirst; 
for  it  shall  be  in  him  a  well  of  water  springing  up 
into  everlasting  life."  Like  an  ethereal  principle  of 
light  and  life,  its  blessed  truths  extend  with  electric 
force  through  all  the  avenues  and  elements  of  the 
home-existence,  "giving  music  to  language,  elevation 
to  thought,  vitality  to  feeling,  intensity  to  power, 
beauty  and  happiness." 

It  is  a  book  for  the  mind,  the  heart,  the  conscience, 
the  will  and  the  life.  It  suits  the  palace  and  the  cot 
tage,  the  afflicted  and  the  prosperous,  the  living  and 
the  dying.  It  is  a  comfort  to  "the  house  of  mourn- 
ing," and  a  check  to  "the  house  of  feasting."  It 
"giveth  seed  to  the  sower,  and  bread  to  the  eater." 
It  is  simple,  yet  grand;  mysterious,  yet  plain;  and 


570  TIIE  BIBLE. 

though  from  God,  it  is,  nevertheless,  within  the  com- 
prehension of  a  little  child.  You  may  send  your 
children  to  school  to  study  other  books,  from  which 
they  may  be  educated  for  this  world ;  but  in  this 
divine  book  they  study  the  science  of  the  eternal 
world. 

The  family  Bible  has  given  to  the  Christian  home 
that  unmeasured  superiority  in  all  the  dignities  and 
decencies  and  enjoyments  of  life,  over  the  home  of 
the  heathen.  It  has  elevated  woman,  revealed  her 
true  mission,  developed  the  true  idea  and  sacredness 
of  marriage  and  of  the  home-relationship ;  it  has 
unfolded  the  holy  mission  of  the  mother,  the  respon- 
sibilities of  the  parent,  and  the  blessings  of  the  child. 
Take  this  book  from  the  family,  and  it  will  degen- 
erate into  a  mere  conventionalism,  marriage  into  a 
"social  contract;"  the  spirit  of  mother  will  depart; 
natural  affection  will  sink  to  mere  brute  fondness,  and 
what  we  now  call  home  would  become  a  den  of  sullen 
selfishness  and  barbaric  lust ! 

And  in  our  own  day,  a  throng  of  good  and  great 
men  have  venerated  this  book,  and  imbibed  its  spirit. 
John  Quincy  Adams,  through  a  long  life,  made  it  his 
daily  study ;  a  neighbor  of  his  once  said  that,  amid 
the  most  active  portions  of  life,  he  always  translated 
a  few  verses  in  his  Hebrew  Bible,  the  first  thing  in 
the  morning.  He  read  it  when  a  boy ;  he  clung  to  it 
through  his  manhood ;  and  to  his  last  day,  he  owed 
to  it.  not  only  his  rare  veneration  for  the  Deity,  but 
his  love  for  freedom  and  humanity,  and  all -his  ada- 
mantine virtues.  Jackson,  Harrison  and  Clay  were 


RELIGION. 


each  students  of  the  Bible.  They  lived  gratefully  by 
its  light;  and  they  died  in  the  hope  of  its  glory. 
"Though  I  walk  through  the  dark  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil;"  these  were  among 
the  1  \st  words  that  fell  on  the  ear  of  the  dying  Web- 
ster Sir  Walter  Scott,  a  few  days  before  his  death, 
ask  'id  his  son-in-law  to  read  to  him.  "What  book," 
inquired  Mr.  Lockhart,  "would  you  like?"  "Can 
yru  ask?"  said  Sir  Walter,  "there  is  but  one." 
\  erily,  there  is  but  one  book  to  be  read  in  our  last 
fr  ours. 


•73- 


RELIGION  is  the  daughter  of  heaven,  parent  of  our 
virtues,  and  source  of  all  true  felicity  ;  she  alone  gives 
peace  and  contentment,  divests  the  heart  of  anxious 
cares,  bursts  on  the  mind  a  flood  of  joy,  and  sheds 
unmingled  and  perpetual  sunshine  in  the  pious  breast. 
By  her  the  spirits  of  darkness  are  banished  from  the 
earth,  and  angelic  ministers  of  grace  thicken  unseen 
the  regions  of  mortality. 

She  promotes  love  and  good  will  among  men,  lifts 
up  the  head  that  hangs  down,  heals  the  wounded 
spirit,  dissipates  the  gloom  of  sorrow,  sweetens  the 
cup  of  affliction,  blunts  the  sting  of  death,  and 
wherever  seen,  felt,  and  enjoyed,  breathes  around 
her  an  everlasting  spring.  The  external  life  of  man 
is  the  creature  of  time  and  circumstance,  and  passes 


572  RELIGION. 

away,  but  the  internal  abides,  and  continues  to  exist. 
One  is  the  painted  glory  of  the  flower ;  the  other  is 
the  delicious  attar  of  the  rose.  The  city  and  the 
temple  may  be  destroyed,  and  the  tribes  exiled  and 
dispersed,  yet  the  altars  and  the  faith  of  Israel  are 
still  preserved.  Spirit  triumphs  over  form.  External 
life  prevails  amidst  sounds  and  shows,  and  visible 
thing's ;  the  internal  dwells  in  silence,  sighs  and  tears, 
and  secret  sympathies  with  the  invisible  world. 
Power,  and  wealth,  and  luxury,  are  relative  terms ; 
and  if  address,  and  prudence,  and  policy,  can  only 
acquire  us  our  share,  we  shall  not  account  ourselves 
more  powerful,  more  rich,  or  more  luxurious,  than 
when  in  the  little  we  possessed  we  were  still  equal  to 
those  around  us.  But  if  we  have  narrowed  the 
sources  of  internal  comfort,  and  internal  enjoyment, 
if  we  have  debased  the  powers  or  corrupted  the  purity 
of  the  mind,  if  we  have  blunted  the  sympathy  or 
contracted  the  affections  of  the  heart,  we  have  lost 
some  of  that  treasure  which  was  absolutely  our  own, 
and  derived  not  its  value  from  comparative  estimation. 
Above  all,  if  we  have  allowed  the  prudence  or  the 
interests  of  this  world  to  shut  out  from  our  souls  the 
view  or  the  hopes  of  a  better,  we  have  quenched  that 
light  which  would  have  cheered  the  darkness  of 
affliction.  But  if  we  let  God  care  for  our  inward  and 
eternal  life,  if  by  all  the  experiences  of  this  life  he  is 
reducing  it  and  preparing  for  its  disclosure,  nothing 
can  befall  us  but  prosperity.  Every  sorrow  shall  be 
but  the  setting  of  some  luminous  jewel  of  joy.  Our 
very  mourning  shall  be  but  the  enamel  around  the 


RELIGION.  573 

diamond ;  our  very  hardships  but  the  metallic  rim  that 
holds  the  opal  glancing-  with  strange  interior  fires. 

If  you  stand  upon  the  mountain,  you  may  see  the 
sun  shining  long  after  it  is  dark  in  the  valley.  Try  to 
live  up  high !  Escape,  if  you  can,  the  malarious 
damps  of  the  lowlands.  Make  an  upward  path  for 
your  feet.  Though  your  spirit  may  be  destined  to 
live  isolated,  you  cannot  be  alone,  for  God  is  there. 
Your  best  strivings  of  soul  are  there  !  Your  standard 
ground  should  be  there  !  Live  upward !  The  cedar 
is  always  developing  its  branches  toward  the  top 
while  the  lower  ones  are  dropping  away.  Let  your 
soul-life  be  so  !  Upward  !  Upward ! 

"Drink  deep,  or  taste  not,"  is  a  direction  fully  as 
applicable  to  religion,  if  we  would  find  it  a  source  of 
pleasure,  as  it  is  to  knowledge.  A  little  religion  is, 
it  must  be  confessed,  apt  to  make  men  gloomy,  as  a 
little  knowledge  is  to  render  them  vain ;  hence  the 
unjust  imputation  brought  upon  religion  by  those 
whose  degree  of  religion  is  just  sufficient,  by  con- 
demning their  course  of  conduct,  to  render  them 
uneasy ;  enough  merely  to  impair  the  sweetness  of 
the  pleasures  of  sin,  and  not  enough  to  compensate 
for  the  relinquishment  of  them  by  its  own  peculiar 
comforts.  Thus,  then,  men  bring  up,  as  it  were,  an 
ill  report  of  that  land  of  promise,  which,  in  truth, 
abounds  with  whatever,  in  our  journey  through  life, 
can  best  refresh  and  strengthen  us.  Would  you 
wish,  amidst  the  great  variety  of  religious  systems  in 
vogue,  to  make  a  right  distinction,  and  prefer  the 
best?  Recollect  the  character  of  Christ;  keep  a 


574  DOING    GOOD. 

steady  eye  on  that  universal  and  permanent  good  will 
to  men,  in  which  He  lived,  by  which  He- suffered,  and 
by  which  He  died.  Not  in  those  wild  and  romantic 
notions,  which,  to  make  us  Christians,  would  make 
us  fools ;  but  in  those  inspired  writings,  and  in  those 
alone,  which  contain  His  genuine  history,  and  His 
blessed  gospel ;  and  which,  in  the  most  peculiar  and 
extensive  sense,  are  the  words  of  eternal  life. 


THERE  are  trees,  like  the  butternut,  that  impoverish 
the  ground  upon  which  they  grow,  but  the  olive  tree 
enriches  the  very  soil  upon  which  it  feeds.  So  there 
are  natures  as  unlike  in  effect  as  these.  Some  cold, 
selfish,  absorbing,  which  chill  and  impoverish  every 
one  with  whom  they  come  in  contact.  Others  radiate 
affluent  souls,  who  enrich  by  their  very  presence, 
whose  smiles  are  full  of  blessing,  and  whose  touch 
has  a  balm  of  feeling  in  it  like  the  touch  of  Him  of 
Nazareth.  Squalid  poverty  is  not  so  pitiable  and 
barren  as  the  selfish  heart,  while  wealth  has  no 
largess  like  that  with  which  God  dowers  the  broad 
and  sunny  soul.  Be  like  the  olive,  from  whose  kindly 
boughs  blessing  and  benison  descend. 

One  of  the  old  philosophers  bade  his  scholars  to 
consider  what  was  the  best  thing  to  possess.  One 
come  and  said  that  there  was  nothing  better  than  a 
good  eye,  which  is,  in  their  language,  a  liberal  and  con- 


DOING    GOOD.  575 

tented  disposition.  Another  said  a  good  companion 
was  the  best  thing-  in  the  world.  A  third  said  a  good 
neighbor  was  the  best  thing  he  could  desire ;  and  the 
fourth  preferred  a  man  that  could  foresee  things  to 
come  —  that  is,  a  wise  person.  But  at  last  came  in 
one  Eleazer,  and  he  said  a  good  heart  was  better 
than  them  all.  "True,"  said  the  master,  "thou  hast 
comprehended  in  two  words  all  that  the  rest  have 
said ;  for  he  that  hath  a  good  heart  will  be  both  con- 
tented, and  a  good  companion,  and  a  good  neighbor, 
and  easily  see  what  is  fit  to  be  done  by  him." 

Every  man  should  ever  consider  that  it  is  best  for 
him  to  have  a  good  heart ;  having  this  it  will  prompt 
him  to  not  only  do  good,  but  it  will  encompass  many 
virtues.  We  counsel  our  friends,  then,  to  sejze  every 
opportunity  of  contributing .  to  the  good  of  others. 
Sometimes  a  smile  will  do  it.  Oftener  a  kind  word, 
a  look  of  sympathy,  or  an  acknowledgment  of  obli- 
gation. Sometimes  a  little  help  to  a  burdened  shoul- 
der, or  a  heavy  wheel,  will  be  in  place.  Sometimes 
a  word  or  two  of  good  counsel,  a  seasonable  and 
gentle  admonition,  and  at  others,  a  suggestion  of 
advantage  to  be  gained  and  a  little  interest  to  secure 
it,  will  be  received  with  lasting  gratitude.  And  thus 
every  instance  of  kindness  done,  whether  acknowl- 
edged or  not,  opens  up  a  little  wellspring  of  happi- 
ness in  the  doer's  own  breast,  the  flow  of  which  may 
be  made  permanent  by  habit. 

Influence  is  to  a  man  what  flavor  is  to  fruit,  or  fra- 
grance to  the  flower.  It  does  not  develop  strength, 
or  determine  character,  but  it  is  the  measure  of  his 


576  DOING    GOOD. 

interior  richness  and  worth,  and  as  the  blossom  can- 
not tell  what  becomes  of  the  odor  which  is  wafted 
away  from  it  by  every  wind,  so  no  man  knows  the 
limit  of  that  influence  which  constantly  and  impercep- 
tibly escapes  from  his  daily  life,  and  goes  out  far 
beyond  his  conscious  knowledge  or  remotest  thought. 
There  are  noxious  weeds  and  fragrance-laden  flow- 
ers in  the  world  of  mind  as  in  the  world  of  matter. 
Truly  blessed  are  they  who  walk  the  way  of  life  as 
the  Savior  of  mankind  once  walked  on  our  earth, 
filling  all  the  air  about  them  with  the  aroma  which  is 
so  subtilely  distilled  from  kindly  deeds,  helpful  words 
and  unselfish  lives. 

One  kernel  is  felt  in  a  hogshead  —  one  drop  of 
water  helps  to  swell  the  ocean  —  a  spark  of  fire 
helps  to  give  light  to  the  world.  You  are  a  small 
man,  passing  amid  the  crowd,  you  are  hardly  noticed ; 
but  you  have  a  drop,  a  spark  within  you  that  may  be 
felt  through  eternity.  Do  you  believe  it?  Set  that 
drop  in  motion,  give  wings  to  that  spark,  and  behold 
the  results !  It  may  renovate  the  world. 

None  are  too  small  —  too  feeble  —  too  poor  to  be  of 
service  think  of  this,  and  act.  Life  is  no  trifle.  If 
we  work  upon  marble,  it  will  perish  ;  if  we  work  upon 
brass  time  will  efface  it ;  if  we  rear  temples,  they  will 
crumble  into  dust.  But  if  we  work  upon  immortal 
minds — if  we  imbue  them  with  high  principles,  with 
the  just  fear  of  God,  and  of  their  fellow-men  —  we 
engrave  on  these  tables  something  which  no  time  can 
efface,  but  which  will  brighten  tp  all  eternity.  It  is  a 
great  thing  to  stand  in  a  place  of  God,  and  proclaim 
His  word  in  the  presence  of  angels  and  men. 


DOING    GOOD.  577 

If  you  would  show  yourself  a  man  in  the  truest  and 
noblest  sense,  go  not  to  yonder  tented  field,  where 
death  hovers,  and  the  vulture  feasts  himself  upon 
human  victims !  Go  not  where  men  are  carving- 
monuments  of  marble  to  perpetuate  names  which  will 
not  live  in  our  own  grateful  memory !  Go  not  to  the 
dwellings  of  the  rich !  Go  not  to  the  palaces  of  the 
kings !  Go  not  to  the  halls  of  merriment  and  pleas- 
ure !  Go  rather  to  the  poor  and  helpless.  Go  to  the 
widow  and  relieve  her  woe.  Go  to  the  orphan  and 
speak  words  of  comfort.  Go  to  the  lost,  and  save 
him.  Go  to  the  fallen  and  raise  him  up.  Go  to  the 
sinner,  and  whisper  in  his  ear  words  of  eternal  life. 
A  man's  true  wealth  hereafter,  is  the  good  he  does  in 
this  world  to  his  fellow  men.  When  he  dies,  people 
will  say,  "What  property  has  he  left  behind  him?" 
But  the  angels  who  examine  will  ask,  "What  are  the 
good  deeds  thou  hast  sent  before  thee  ?" 

Every  one  of  us  may  in  some  way  or  other  assist 
or  instruct  some  of  his  fellow  creatures,  for  the  best 
of  the  human  race  is  poor  and  needy,  and  all  have  a 
mutual  dependence  on  one  another.  There  is  nobody 
who  cannot  do  some  good ;  and  everybody  is  bound 
to  do  diligently  all  the  good  he  can.  It  is  by  no 
means  enough  to  be  rightly  disposed,  to  be  serious, 
and  religious  in  our  closets ;  we  must  be  useful  too, 
and  take  care  that  as  we  all  reap  numberless  benefits 
from  society,  society  may  be  the  better  for  every  one 
of  us.  It  is  a  false,  a  faulty,  and  an  indolent  humility, 
that  makes  people  sit  still  and  do  nothing,  because 
they  will  not  believe  that  they  are  capable  of  doing 


578  DOING    GOOD. 

much,  for  everybody  can  do  something.  Everybody 
can  set  a  good  example,  be  it  to  many  or  to  few. 
Everybody  can  in  some  degree  encourage  virtue  and 
religion,  and  discountenance  vice  and  folly.  Every- 
body has  some  one  or  other  whom  he  can  advise,  or 
instruct,  or  in  some  way  help  to  guide  through  life. 
Those  who  are  too  poor  to  give  alms  can  yet  give 
their  time,  their  trouble,  their  assistance  in  preparing 
or  forwarding  the  gifts  of  others ;  in  considering  and 
representing  distressed  cases  to  those  who  can 
relieve  them ;  in  visiting  and  comforting  the  sick  and 
afflicted.  Everybody  can  offer  up  his  prayers  for 
those  who  need  them ;  which,  if  he  do  reverently  and 
sincerely,  he  will  never  be  wanting  in  giving  them 
every  other  assistance  that  it  should  please  God  to 
put  in  his  power. 

Dr.  Johnson  used  to  say,  "He  who  waits  to  do  a 
great  deal  of  good  at  once,  will  never  do  any,"  Good 
is  done  by  degrees.  However  small  in  proportion  to 
benefits  which  follow  individual  attempts  to  do  good, 
a  great  deal  may  be  accomplished  by  perseverance, 
even  in  the  midst  of  discouragements  and  disappoint- 
ments. Life  is  made  up  of  little  things.  It  is  but 
once  in  an  age  that  occasion  is  offered  for  doing  a 
great  deed.  True  greatness  consists  in  being  great 
in  little  things.  How  are  railroads  built?  By  one 
shovelful  of  dirt  after  another;  one  shovelful  at  a 
time.  Thus  drops  make  the  ocean.  Hence  we 
should  be  willing  to  do  a  little  good  at  a  time,  and 
never  "wait  to  do  a  great  deal  of  good  at  once."  If 
we  would  do  much  good  in  the  world,  we  must  be 


DOING    GOOD.  579 

willing  to  do  good  in  little  things,  little  acts  one  after 
another,  setting  a  good  example  all  the  time ;  we  must 
do  the  first  good  thing  we  can,  and  then  the  next,  and 
the  next,  and  so  keep  on  doing  good.  Oh  !  it  is 
great ;  there  is  no  other  greatness  :  to  make  some  nook 
of  God's  creation  a  little  more  fruitful,  better,  more 
worthy  of  a  God ;  to  make  some  human  hearts  a 
little  wiser,  more  manful,  happier;  more  blessed,  less 
accursed !  The  first  and  paramount  aim  of  religion 
is  not  to  prepare  for  another  world,  but  to  make  the 
best  of  this  world ;  or,  more  correctly  stated,  to  make 
this  world  better,  wiser,  and  happier.  It  is  to  be 
good,  and  do  the  most  good  we  can  now  and  here, 
and  to  help  others  to  be  and  do  the  same.  It  is  to 
seek  with  all  our  might  the  highest  welfare  of  the 
world  we  live  in,  and  the  realization  of  its  ideal  great- 
ness, nobleness,  and  blessedness.  A  most  comforting 
thought  is,  that  the  forever  will  not  be  a  place  of  white 
robes  and  golden  harps  and  praise  singing  only,  but 
will  also  be  a  place  for  living,  loving  and  doing. 
There  is  pleasure  in  contemplating  good ;  there  is  a 
greater  pleasure  in  receiving  good ;  but  the  greatest 
pleasure  of  all  is  in  doing  good,  which  comprehends 
the  rest.  Do  good  with  what  thou  hast,  or  it  will  do 
thee  no  good.  The  power  of  doing  good  to  worthy 
objects,  is  the  only  enviable  circumstance  in  the  lives 
of  people  of  fortune.  Napoleon  once  entered  a 
cathedral  and  saw  twelve  silver  statues.  "What  are 
these?"  said  the  Emperor.  "The  twelve  Apostles," 
was  the  reply.  "Well,"  said  he,  "take  them  down, 
melt  them,  and  coin  them  into  money,  and  let  them 


580  WELL    DOING. 

go  about  doing  good,  as  their  Master  did."  Be  always 
sure  of  doing  good.  This  will  make  your  life  com- 
fortable, your  death  happy,  and  your  account  glorious. 
Zealously  strive  to  do  good  for  the  sake  of  good.  Be 
simply  good ;  be  good  for  something. 

How  sweet  'twill  be  at  evening 

If  you  and  I  can  say 
"Good  Shepherd,  we've  been  seeking 

The  lambs  that  went  astray  ; 
Heart-sore,  and  faint  with  hunger, 

We  heard  them  making  moan, 
And  lo !  we  come  at  night-fall 

Bearing  them  safely  home!" 


1*11 


I  AM  happy,  says  G.  S.  Weaver,  in  knowing  that 
although  men  differ  about  woman's  intellectual  capac- 
ities, they  agree  in  ascribing  to  her  the  highest  order 
of  moral  and  social  qualities.  All  admit  that  woman 
is  the  morality  and  religion,  the  love  and  sociality,  of 
humanity.  In  these  developments  of  human  attain- 
ments, she  is  the  queen  without  a  peer.  These  are 
at  present  woman's  peculiar  fields  of  power.  Society 
has  measurably  shut  her  out  from  the  intellectual  arena 
of  life.  But  if  it  has  cut  short  her  operations  in  this, 
it  has  extended  them  in  the  field  of  social  life.  Wide 
and  grand  are  her  opportunities  here.  Man  is  not  so 
deficient  in  gallantry  as  he  is  in  generosity  and  judg- 
ment. In  what  man  has  oppressed  woman  it  is  more 
the  fault  of  his  head  than  his  heart;  it  is  more  a 


WELL    DOING.  581 

weakness  of  conscience  than  of  affection.  He  is 
prouder  of  his  judgment  than  he  ought  to  be.  His 
judgment  often  fails  because  it  is  not  sanctified  by 
conscience.  His  intellect  is  often  deceived  because 
its  vision  is  not  extended  and  widened  by  a  deep 
affection  and  a  broad  benevolence.  In  this,  woman 
has  the  advantage  of  him  in  the  present  relations  of 
the  sexes.  Her  moral  sense  consecrates  her  intellect, 
and  her  heart  quickens  it.  thus  making  her  judgment 
more  intuitive  and  ready,  more  comprehensive  and 
sure.  She  feels  that  a  thing  is  so  ;  he  reasons  that  it 
is  so.  She  judges  by  impression  when  facts  are 
stated ;  he  by  logic.  Her  impressions  she  cannot 
always  explain,  because  her  intellect  has  not  been 
sufficiently  cultivated ;  his  logic  often  fails  him,  because 
it  is  not  sufficiently  imbued  with  the  moral  element. 
The  light  of  the  conscience  and  the  heart  does  not 
shine  upon  it  with  sufficient  strength.  This  we 
understand  to  be  the  present  difference  between  the 
male  and  female  mind.  It  is  more  than  a  difference 
in  growth  and  culture,  in  inherent  constitution.  We 
do  not  believe  that  the  relation  between  the  different 
departments  of  the  human  mind  naturally  differ  in 
men  and  women ;  that  is,  we  do  not  believe  that  man 
is  more  intelligent  and  less  moral,  and  woman  more 
moral  and  less  intellectual.  A  perfect  male  mind  is 
an  equal  strength  of  the  several  departments  of  mind ; 
that  is,  an  equal  strength  of  the  intellectual,  moral, 
social,  and  energetic  portions  of  the  mind,  a  balance 
among  its  several  powers.  The  same  is  true  of  the 
female  mind. 


582  WELL    DOING. 

So  far  as  this  relation  of  the  parts  is  concerned,  it 
is  the  same  in  the  perfect  male  and  female  mind.  In 
just  so  much  as  this  relation  is  changed,  is  the  judg- 
ment corrupted  and  the  mental  strength  impaired. 
In  the  present  male  mind  this  relation  is  changed  by 
giving  the  greater  cultivation  to  the  intellect,  and  less 
to  the  moral  sense  and  the  heart.  So  his  judgment 
is  impaired  and  the  moral  dignity  of  his  soul  debased, 
He  is  a  less  man  than  he  ought  to  be ;  is  deformed  in 
his  mental  growth  like  a  tree  grown  in  a  shady  place 
where  the  light  could  reach  it  from  only  one  quarter. 
He  has  less  power  of  mind  than  he  would  have  with 
the  same  amount  of  cultivation  properly  and  equally 
distributed  among  the  several  departments  of  his 
mind.  Strength  lies  in  balance  of  power.  Our  men 
are  not  too  intellectual,  but  too  intellectual  for  their 
moral  and  affectionate  strength.  They  are  like  an 
apple  grown  all  on  one  side,  or  a  horse  with  dispro- 
portioned  body,  or  any  animal  with  some  of  its  limbs 
too  short  for  the  rest.  Mentally  they  are  deformed 
and  lame  by  their  one-sided  culture.  In  the  present 
female  mind  there  is  a  disproportion  in  another  direc- 
tion. In  this  the  intellect  has  been  neglected,  while 
the  moral  and  social  mind  has  had  a  better  degree  of 
cultivation.  Thus  our  women  have  been  mentally 
deformed  and  weakened.  They  are  less  woman  than 
they  ought  to  have  been.  Their  characters  and 
judgments  have  lacked  harmony,  and  their  lives  have 
been  marked  by  the  same  deficiencies.  Their  minds 
are  one-sided  and  marked  with  sad  irregularities. 
They  are  not  too  moral  and  affectionate,  but  are  not 


WELL    DOING.  583 

sufficiently  intellectual.  The  same  amount  of  culture 
which  they  have  received  would  have  conferred  more 
beauty  and  dignity  to  the  character  and  life  had  it 
been  more  general,  or  equally  applied  to  the  several 
powers  of  mind.  Sound  judgment,  pure  life,  dignity 
of  character  are  the  results  of  a  balance  of  power 
and  culture  in  the  several  departments  of  mind. 
This  difference  in  the  culture  of  the  male  and  female 
mind  has  made  a  breach  between  the  sexes.  The 
present  male  mind  cannot  comprehend  the  female,  nor 
the  female  the  male.  Instead  of  growing  up  in 
similarity  and  harmony,  they  have  grown  up  into 
wide  differences. 

The  male  and  female  mind  are  not  alike  by  nature, 
by  any  means.  There  is  a  wide  difference  between 
them ;  but  the  difference  is  in  the  nature,  texture,  and 
quality  of  the  mind,  and  not  in  the  relation  of  parts. 
The  female  mind  has  an  inherent  constitution  peculiar 
to  itself  that  makes  it  female ;  so  with  the  male. 
This  difference  is  beyond  the  fathoming  line  o£  human 
thought.  We  know  it  exists,  but  wherefore  and  how 
we  know  not.  It  is  the  secret  of  the  Divine  Con- 
structor of  mentality.  In  our  mental  structure  we 
are  to  seek  for  harmony,  a  consistent  rhythmic  devel- 
opment of  parts.  The  opportunities  offered  to 
woman  for  the  cultivation  of  her  moral  and  religious 
nature  are  eminently  favorable.  If  her  intellectual 
opportunities  are  not  so  good,  her  moral  and  relig- 
ious are  better.  She  is  not  so  pressed  with  tempta- 
tion. The  world  does  not  bear  with  such  an  Atlas 
burden  on  her  conscience.  The  almighty  dollar  does 


584  WELL    DOING. 

not   eclipse    so   large  a  field  of  her  mental  vision. 
Material  pursuits  do  not  check  so  much  her  spiritual 
progress.     God  is  nearer  to  her  heart,  more  in  her 
thoughts,  sweeter  in  her  soul,  brighter  in  her  visions, 
because  she  is  less  compassed  about  by  the  snares  of 
vice  and  the  hostile  pursuits  of  the  false  and  flatter- 
ing world.      It  is  a  blessed  thing  for  humanity  that 
woman  is  more  religious  and  morally  upright ;  because 
man  is  too  irreverent  and  base.      He  lacks  the  sanctity 
of  high  morality  and    the    consecration   of  religion. 
I  speak  of  man  in  the  mass.      Woman  is  the  conser 
vation  of  morality  and   religion.      Her  moral   worth 
holds  man  in  some  restraint  and  preserves  his  ways 
from    becoming  inhumanly  corrupt.     Mighty    is    the 
power   of  woman  in  this   respect.     Every  virtue  in 
woman's  heart  has  its  influence  on  the  world.     Some 
men  feel  it.     A  brother,   husband,  friend,  or  son,  is 
touched  by  its  sunshine.      Its  mild  beneficence  is  not 
lost.     A  virtuous  woman  in  the  seclusion  of  her  home, 
breathing  the  sweet  influence  of  virtue  into  the  hearts 
and  lives  of  its  beloved  ones,  is  an  evangel  of  good- 
ness to  the  world.     She  is  one  of  the  pillars  of  the 
eternal  kingdom  of  right.     She  is  a  star  shining  in 
the  moral  firmament.      She  is  a  princess  administer- 
ing  at    the    fountains     of    life     Every    prayer    she 
breathes  is  answered  to  a  greater  or  less  extent  in 
the  hearts  and  lives  of  those  she  loves.     Her  piety  is 
an  altar-fire  where  religion  acquires  strength  to  go 
out  on  its  merciful  mission.     We  cannot  overestimate 
the  utility  and  power  of  woman's  moral  and  religious 
character.     The  world  would  go  to  ruin  without  it. 


WELL    DOING.  535 

With  all  our  ministers  and  churches,  and  Bibles  and 
sermons,    man   would    be    a    prodigal    without    the 
restraint  of  woman's  virtue  and  the  consecration  of 
her   religion.     Woman    first  lays   her  hand    on    our 
young   powers.     She    plants    the    first   seeds.     She 
makes  the  first  impressions ;  and  all  along  through 
life  she  scatters  the  good  seed  of  the  kingdom  and 
sprinkles  the  dews  of  her  piety.     But  woman  does 
not  do  enough.     Her  power  is  not  yet  equal  to  its 
need.      Her  virtue  is  not  mighty  enough.      Her  relig- 
ion comes  short  in  its  work.     Look  out  and  see  the 
world  —  a   grand    Pandora's  box   of  wickedness — a 
great  battle-field  of  clashing   passions  and  warring 
interests  —  a  far  spread   scene  of  sensualism  and  sel- 
fishness, in  which  woman  herself  acts  a  conspicuous 
part.     Look  at  society  —  the  rich  eating  up  the  poor; 
the  poor  stabbing  at  the  rich ;   fashion  playing  in  the 
halls  of  gilded  sensualism ;  folly  dancing  to  the  tune 
of  ignorant  mirth ;   intemperance    gloating  over   its 
roast  beef,  or  whisky  jug,  brandy  punch,  champagne 
bottle,  bearing  thousands  upon   thousands  down  to 
the  grave  of  ignominy,  sensualism,  and  drunkenness. 
Is    there    not    a    need    of    more    vigorous    virtue   in 
woman  ?     Is  there  not  a  call  for  a  more  active  religion, 
a  more  powerful  impulse  in  behalf  of  morality  ?    Who 
shall  heed  this  cry  of  wicked,   wasting  humanity,   if 
the  young  woman  does    not?     To   youthful  woman 
we   must  look  for  a  powerful  leader  in  the  cause  of 
morality  and  religion.      The  girls  of  to-day  are  to  be 
greatly  instrumental  in  giving  a  moral  complexion  to 
the  society  of  to-morrow.     It  is  important  that  they 


586  WELL    DOING. 

should  fix  high  this  standard  of  virtue.  They  ought 
to  lay  well  their  foundations  of  religion.  They  ought 
early  to  baptize  their  souls  in  the  consecrated  waters 
of  truth  and  right. 

The  first  element  in  their  moral  character  which 
they  should  seek  to  establish  firmly  is  purity.  A 
pure  heart  is  the  fountain  of  life.  "The  pure  in  heart 
shall  see  God."  Not  only  is  purity  of  life  needed  to 
make  a  young  woman  beautiful  and  useful,  but  purity 
in  thought,  feeling,  emotion,  and  motive.  All  within 
us  that  lies  open  to  the  gaze  of  God  should  be  pure. 
A  young  woman  should  be  in  heart  what  she  seems 
to  be  in  life.  Her  words  should  correspond  with  her 
thoughts.  The  smile  of  her  face  should  be  the  smile 
of  her  heart.  The  light  of  her  eye  should  be  the 
light  of  her  soul.  She  should  abhor  deception ;  she 
should  loathe  intrigue ;  she  should  have  a  deep  dis- 
gust of  duplicity.  Her  life. should  be  the  outspoken 
language  of  her  mind,  the  eloquent  poem  of  her  soul 
speaking  in  rhythmic  beauties  the  intrinsic  merit  of 
inward  purity.  Purity  antecedes  all  spiritual  attain- 
ments and  progress.  It  is  the  first  and  fundamental 
virtue  in  a  good  character ;  it  is  the  letter  A  in  the 
moral  alphabet ;  it  is  the  first  step  in  the  spiritual  life ; 
it  is  the  Alpha  of  the  eternal  state  of  soul  which  has 
no  Omega.  Whatever  may  be  our  mental  attain- 
ments or  social  qualities,  we  are  nothing  without 
purity ;  only  "tinkling cymbals."  Our  love  is  stained, 
our  benevolence  corrupted,  our  piety  a  pretense  which 
God  will  not  accept.  An  impure  young  woman  is  an 
awful  sight.  She  outrages  all  just  ideas  of  woman- 


WELL    DOING.  {=,87 

hood,  all  proper  conceptions  of  spiritual  beauty.  To 
have  evil  imaginings,  corrupt  longings,  or  deceitful 
propensities  ought  to  startle  any  young  woman.  To 
feel  a  disposition  to  sensuality,  a  craving  for  the 
glitter  of  a  worldly  life,  or  a  selfish  ambition  for 
unmerited  distinction  is  dangerous  in  the  extreme. 
It  is  the  exuding  of  impure  waters  from  the  heart. 
Who  feels  such  utterings  within  should  beware. 
They  are  the  whisperings  of  an  evil  spirit,  the  tempta- 
tions to  sin  and  crime.  If  I  could  speak  to  all  the 
young  women  in  the  world,  I  would  strive  to  utter 
the  intrinsic  beauties  and  essential  qualities  of  purity  ; 
I  would  seek  to  illustrate  it  as  the  fountain  of  all  that 
is  great  and  good,  all  that  is  spiritually  grand  and 
redeeming.  There  is  no  virtue,  no  spiritual  life,  no 
moral  beauty,  no  glory  of  soul,  nor  dignity  of  char- 
acter without  purity. 

The  second  virtue  she  should  cultivate  is  benevo- 
lence. Queen  of  virtues,  lovely  star  in  the  crown  of 
life,  bright  and  glorious  image  of  Him  who  is  love, 
how  beautiful  is  it  in  woman's  heart!  A  woman 
without  benevolence  is  not  a  woman ;  she  is  only  a 
deformed  personality  of  womanhood.  In  every  heart 
there  are  many  tendencies  to  selfishness,  but  the  spirit 
of  benevolence  counteracts  them  all.  A  hollow,  cold, 
graceless,  ungodly  thing  is  a  heart  without  benevo- 
lence. In  a  world  like  this,  where  we  are  all  so  needy 
and  dependent,  where  our  interests  are  so  interlocked, 
where  our  lives  and  hearts  overlap  each  other,  and 
often  grow  together,  we  cannot  live  without  a  good 
degree  of  benevolence.  Our  true  earth-life  is  a 


588  WELL    DOING. 

benevolent  one.  Our  highest  interests  are  in  the 
path  of  benevolence.  We  do  most  for  ourselves 
when  we  do  most  for  others.  "It  is  more  blessed  to 
give  than  to  receive."  Good  deeds  double  in  the 
doing,  and  the  larger  half  comes  back  to  the  doer. 
The  most  benevolent  soul  lives  nearest  to  God.  A 
large  heart  of  charity  is  a  noble  thing.  Selfishness 
is  the  root  of  evil ;  benevolence  is  its  cure.  In  no 
heart  is  benevolence  more  beautiful  than  in  youthful 
woman's.  In  no  heart  is  selfishness  more  ugly.  t  To 
do  good  is  noble  ;  to  be  good  is  nobler.  This  should 
be  the  aim  of  all  young  women.  The  poor  and  needy 
should  occupy  a  large  place  in  their  hearts.  The  sick 
and  suffering  should  move  upon  their  sympathies. 
The  sinful  and  criminal  should  awaken  their  deepest 
pity.  The  oppressed  and  down-trodden  should  find 
a  large  place  in  their  compassion.  How  blessed  is 
woman  on  errands  of  mercy !  How  sweet  are  her 
soothing  words  to  the  disconsolate !  How  consoling 
her  tears  of  sympathy  to  the  mourning !  How  fresh 
her  spirit  of  hope  to  the  discouraged  !  How  soft  her 
hand  to  the  sick !  How  balmy  the  breath  of  her  love 
to  the  oppressed !  Woman  appears  in  one  of  her 
loveliest  aspects  when  she  appears  as  the  practical 
follower  of  Him  who  "went  about  doing  good." 
The  young  woman  who  does  these  works  of  practical 
benevolence  is  educating  her  moral  powers  in  the 
school  of  earnest  and  glorious  life.  She  is  laying  the 
foundations  for  a  noble  and  useful  womanhood.  She 
is  planting  the  seeds  of  a  charity  that  will  grow  to 
bless  and  save  the  suffering  of  our  fellow-men.  In 


WELL    DOING. 


589 


no  other  way  can  she  so  successfully  cultivate  the 
virtue  of  benevolence.  It  is  not  enough  that  she 
pity  the  sorrows  of  the  poor  and  suffering.  Her 
hand  must  be  taught  to  heed  the  pleadings  of  her 
pitying  heart.  What  she  feels,  she  must  do.  What 
she  wishes,  she  must  make  an  effort  to  accomplish. 
What  she  prays  for,  she  must  strive  to  attain.  Every- 
body predicts  a  beautiful  life  from  a  good-doing  young 
woman. 

The  third  virtue  which  the  young  woman  should 
cultivate  is  integrity,  or  the  sentiment  of  duty.  A 
German  philosopher  has  poetically  and  truthfully  said, 
"The  two  most  beautiful  things  in  the  universe  are 
the  starry  heavens  above  our  heads  and  the  sentiment 
of  duty  in  the  human  soul."  Few  objects  are  richer 
for  the  contemplation  of  a  truly  high-minded  man 
than  a  young  woman  who  lives,  acts,  speaks,  and 
exerts  her  powers  from  an  enlightened  conviction  of 
duty.  In  such  women  there  is  a  mighty  force  of 
moral  power.  Though  they  may  be  gentle  as  the 
lamb,  or  retiring  and  modest  in  their  demeanor,  there 
is  in  them  what  commands  respect,  what  enforces 
esteem.  They  are  the  strong  women.  The  sun  is 
not  truer  to  his  course  than  they  to  theirs.  They  are 
reliable  as  the  everlasting  rocks.  Every  day  finds  in 
them  the  same  beautiful,  steady,  moral  firmness. 
Men  look  to  them  with  a  confidence  that  knows  no 
doubt.  They  are  fearless  and  brave,  they  have  but 
to  know  their  duty  to  be  ready  to  engage  in  it. 
Though  men  laugh  or  sneer,  though  the  world  frown, 
or  threaten  they  will  do  it.  There  is  no  bravado  in 


590  WELL    DOING. 

them ;  it  is  the  simple  power  of  integrity.  They  are 
true  to  what  to  them  seems  right.  Such  spirits  are 
often  the  mildest  and  meekest  we  have.  They  are 
sweet  as  the  flower  while  they  are  firm  as  the  rock. 
We  know  them  by  their  lives.  They  are  consistent, 
simple-hearted,  uniform  and  truthful.  The  word  on 
the  tongue  is  the  exact  speech  of  the  heart.  The 
expression  they  wear  is  the  spirit  they  bear.  Their 
parlor  demeanor  is  their  kitchen  and  closet  manner. 
Their  courtesy  abroad  is  their  politeness  at  home. 
Their  confiding  converse  is  such  as  the  world  may 
hear  and  respect  them  the  more  for  it.  Such  are  the 
women  of  integrity. 

The  fourth  virtue  of  inestimable  value  which  the 
young  woman  should  cultivate  is  piety.  This  may  be 
regarded  as  the  crown  of  all  moral  virtues.  It  is  that 
which  sanctifies  the  rest.  It  is  a  heavenly  sun  in  the 
moral  firmament,  shedding  a  divine  lustre  through 
the  soul  —  a  balmy,  hallowing  light,  sweeter  than 
earth  can  give.  Piety  is  the  meek-eyed  maid  of 
heaven,  that  holds  her  sister  Faith  in  one  hand  and 
Hope  in  the  other,  and  looks  upward  with  a  confiding 
smile,  saying,  "My  treasure  is  above."  Of  all  the 
influences  wrought  in  the  human  soul,  the  work  of 
piety  is  the  most  harmonizing  and  divine.  It  subdues 
the  flesh  and  the  world,  and  calls  down  heaven  to 
bless  the  happy  pietist.  It  is  the  constant,  ever- 
speaking  voice  of  the  Father  uttering  in  sublime  and 
beautiful  impressions  the  holy  eloquence  of  his  ever- 
lasting love.  It  is  the  communing  ground  of  the 
mortal  child  with  the  immortal  Parent.  In  the  mind 


WELL    DOING.  591 

of  youthfal  woman  it  is  as  beautiful  as  it  can  be  any- 
where. And  when  she  consecrates  all  her  powers 
by  the  laying  on  of  its  heavenly  hands,  and  sanctifies 
all  her  feelings  by  its  hallowed  influences,  she  exhibits 
a  view  of  beauty  —  of  physical,  moral,  and  spiritual 
beauty  —  not  elsewhere  surpassed  on  earth.  A  deep, 
pervading,  all-controlling  piety  is  the  highest  attain- 
ment of  man  on  earth.  It  is  that  reverent,  humble, 
grateful,  affectionate,  and  virtuous  purity  of  spirit  in 
which  the  human  and  divine  meet  and  embrace  each 
other.  It  is  the  spiritual  crown  which  men  put  on 
when  they  go  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  This  is 
what  we  urge  as  the  last  and  finishing  excellency 
of  the  youthful  female  character.  The  cultivation  of 
this  is  what  we  press  as  conferring  mortal  perfection 
of  character,  or  as  great  perfection  as  frail,  sinful 
creatures  can  put  on  below  "the  mansions  of  the 
skies." 

We  urge  it  as  the  best  and  highest  duty  of  every 
young  woman  —  a  duty  she  owes  to  herself,  her  fel- 
lows, and  her  God  —  a  duty  as  full  of  joys  as  the 
heavens  are  of  stars,  and  when  performed,  reflecting 
matchless  grace  upon  her  soul.  We  do  not  urge  it 
through  fear  of  hell  or  hope  of  heaven ;  we  do  not 
urge  it  from  motives  of  policy ;  we  urge  it  for  its  own 
intrinsic  worth ;  for  the  blessedness  of  being  pious ; 
for  the  excellency  and  worth  of  character  and  life  it 
confers.  No  character  is  complete  till  it  is  swayed 
and  elevated  by  genuine  piety.  No  heart  is  fully 
happy  till  it  is  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  piety.  No 
life  is  all  it  may  and  should  be  till  its  motives  are  bap- 


592  OLD    AGE. 

tized  in  the  waters  of  piety.  No  soul  is  saved  till  it 
is  transformed  by  the  gracious  spirit  of  this  daughter 
of  the  skies.  This  divine  grace  of  the  soul  should 
be  sought  by  every  young  woman,  and  cultivated  with 
the  most  assiduous  care,  for  without  it  she  is  destitute 
of  the  highest  beauty  and  divinest  charm  and  power 
of  womanhood. 


"  No   snow   falls  lighter   than    the   snow   of  age  ;   but  none  is  heavier,  for  it 

never  melts." 

THE  figure  is  by  no  means  novel,  but  the  closing 
part  of  the  sentence  is  new  as  well  as  emphatic.  The 
Scriptures  represent  age  by  the  almond-tree,  which 
bears  blossoms  of  purest  white.  "The  almond-tree 
shall  flourish,"  the  head  shall  be  hoary.  Dickens 
says  of  one  of  his  characters,  whose  hair  was  turning 
gray,  that  it  looked  as  if  Time  had  lightly  splashed 
his  snows  upon  it  in  passing. 

"It  never  melts"  —no  never.  Age  is  inexorable. 
Its  wheels  must  move  onward ;  they  know  no  retro- 
grade movement.  The  old  man  may  sit  and  sing,  "I 
would  I  were  a  boy  again,"  but  he  grows  older  as  he 
sings.  He  may  read  of  the  elixir  of  youth,  but  he 
cannot  find  it ;  he  may  sigh  for  the  secrets  of  that 
alchemy  which  is  able  to  make  him  young  again,  but 
sighing  brings  it  not.  He  may  gaze  backward  with 
an  eye  of  longing  upon  the  rosy  scenes  of  early 


©  L  ID)      AGE. 


OLD    AGE.  593 

years,  as  one  who  gazes  on  his  home  from  the  deck 
of  a  departing  ship,  which  every  moment  carries  him 
farther  and  farther  away.  Poor  old  man  !  he  has  little 
more  to  do  than  die. 

"It  never  melts."  The  snow  of  winter  comes  and 
sheds  its  white  blessings  upon  the  valley  and  the 
mountains,  but  soon  the  sweet  spring  comes  and 
smiles  it  all  away.  Not  so  with  that  upon  the  brow 
of  the  tottering  veteran.  There  is  no  spring  whose 
warmth  can  penetrate  its  eternal  frost.  It  came  to 
stay.  Its  single  flakes  fell  unnoticed  —  and  now  it  is 
drilled  there.  We  shall  see  it  increase  until  we  lay 
the  old  man  in  his  grave.  There  it  shall  be  absorbed 
by  the  eternal  darkness  —  for  there  is  no  age  in 
heaven. 

The  young,  who  all  wish  to  live,  but  who  at  the 
same  time  have  a  dread  of  growing  old,  may  not  be 
disposed  to  allow  the  justice  of  the  representation  we 
are  now  to  make.  They  regard  old  age  as  a  dreary 
season,  that  admits  of  nothing  which  can  be  called 
pleasure,  and  very  little  which  deserves  the  name  even 
of  comfort.  They  look  forward  to  it,  as  in  autumn 
we  anticipate  the  approach  of  winter;  but  winter, 
though  it  terrifies  us  at  a  distance,  has  nothing  very 
formidable  when  it  arrives.  Its  enjoyments  are  of  a 
different  kind,  but  we  find  it  not  less  pleasant  than 
any  other  season  of  the  year. 

In  like  manner  old  age,  frightful  as  it  may  be  to  the 
young,  who  view  it  afar  off,  has  no  terror  to  them 
who  see  it  near;  but  experience  proves  that  it 
abounds  with  consolations,  and  even  with  delights. 


594  OLD  AGE- 

We  should  look  therefore  with  pleasure  on  many  old 
men,  whose  illuminated  faces  and  hoary  heads  resem- 
ble one  of  those  pleasant  days  in  winter,  so  common 
in  this  climate,  when  a  bright  sun  darts  its  beams  on 
a  pure  field  of  snow.  The  beauty  of  spring-,  the 
splendor  of  summer,  and  the  glory  of  autumn  are 
gone ;  but  the  prospect  is  still  lively  and  cheerful. 

Among  other  circumstances  which  contribute  to 
the  satisfaction  of  this  period  of  life,  is  the  respect 
with  which  old  age  is  treated.  There  are,  it  must  be 
acknowledged  and  lamented,  some  foolish  and  ill- 
educated  young  persons  who  do  not  pay  that  vener- 
tion  which  is  due  to  the  hoary  head;  but  these 
examples  are  not  numerous. 

The  world  in  general  bows  down  to  age,  gives  it 
precedence,  and  listens  with  deference  to  its  opinions. 
Old  age  wants  accommodations  ;  and  it  must  in  justice 
to  man  be  allowed  that  they  are  afforded  with  cheer- 
fulness. Who  can  deny  that  such  reverence  is 
soothing  to  the  human  mind?  and  that  it  compensates 
us  for  the  loss  of  many  pleasures  which  are  peculiar 
to  youth  ? 

The  respect  of  the  world  in  general  is  gratifying ; 
but  the  respect  of  a  man's  own  offspring  must  yield 
heartfelt  delight.  Can  there  be  a  more  pleasing 
sight,  than  a  venerable  old  man  surrounded  by  his 
children  and  grandchildren,  all  of  whom  are  emulous 
of  each  other  in  testifying  their  homage  and  affec- 
tion ?  His  children,  proud  of  their  honored  father, 
strive  who  shall  treat  him  with  the  most  attention, 
while  his  grandchildren  hang  on  his  neck,  entertain 


OLD    AGE. 


595 


with  their  innocent  prattle,  and  convince  him  that 
they  love  their  grandfather  not  less  than  they  love 
their  father.     Whoever  takes   a  little  child  into   his 
love,  may  have  a  very  roomy  heart,   but  that  child 
will   fill   it  all.     The  children   that  are  in   the  world 
keep  us  from  growing  old  and  cold ;    they  cling  to 
•our  garments  with  their  little  hands,  and  impede  our 
progress  to  petrification ;   they  win  us  back  with  their 
pleading  eyes  from  cruel  care ;   they  never  encumber 
us  at  all.     A  poor  old   couple,  with  no  one  to  love 
them,  is  a  most  pitiful  picture ;    but  a  hovel  with  a 
small  face  to  fill   a   broken  pane,  here  and  there,  is 
robbed  of  its  desolateness.     A  little  thoughtful  atten- 
tion, how  happy  it  makes  the  old !     They  have  out- 
lived most  of  the  friends  of  their  early  youth.     How 
lonely  their  hours  !     Often  their  partners  in  life  have 
long  filled    silent  graves ;    often   their  children   they 
have    followed    to   the  tomb.     They   stand   solitary, 
bending  on  their  staff,  waiting  till  the  same  call  shall 
reach  them.     How  often  they  must  think  of  absent, 
lamented  faces,  of  the  love  which  cherished  them, 
and  the  tears  of  sympathy  which  fell  with  theirs  — 
now   all    gone.     Why   should   not    the    young  cling 
-around  and  comfort  them,  cheering  their  gloom  with 
happy  smiles  ? 

That  old  man !  what  disappointments  he  has 
•encountered  in  his  long  journey,  what  bright  hopes 
blasted,  what  sorrows  felt,  what  agonies  endured, 
how  many  loved  ones  he  has  covered  up  in  the  grave. 
And  that  old  woman,  too !  husband  dead,  children  all 
buried  or  far  away,  life's  flowers  faded,  the  friends  of 


596  DEATH. 

her  youth  no  more,  and  she  waiting  to  go  soonN 
Ought  we  ever  to  miss  an  opportunity  of  showing 
attention  to  the  aged,  of  proffering  a  kindness,  or 
lighting  up  a  smile,  by  a  courteous  act  or  a  friendly 
deed  ? 

Why  speak  of  age  in  a  mournful  strain  ?  It  is 
beautiful,  honorable,  eloquent.  Should  we  sigh  at 
the  proximity  of  death,  when  life  and  the  world  are 
so  full  of  emptiness  ?  Let  the  old  exult  because  they 
are  old.  If  any  must  weep,  let  it  be  the  young,  at 
the  long  succession  of  cares  that  are  before  them. 
Welcome  the  snow,  for  it  is  the  emblem  of  peace  and 
of  rest.  It  is  but  a  temporal  crown  which  shall  fall 
at  the  gates  of  Paradise,  to  be  replaced  by  a  brighter 
and  a  better. 


No  SEX  is  spared,  no  age  exempt.  The  majestic 
and  courtly  roads  which  monarchs  pass  over,  the  way 
that  the  men  of  letters  tread,  the  path  the  warrior 
traverses,  the  short  and  simple  annals  of  the  poor,  all 
lead  to  the  same  place,  all  terminate,  however  varied 
in  their  routes,  in  that  one  enormous  house  which  is 
appointed  for  all  living.  One  short  sentence  closes 
the  biography  of  every  man,  as  if  in  a  mockery  of  the 
unsubstantial  pretensions  of  human  pride,  "The  days 
of  the  years  of  Methuselah  were  nine  hundred  and 
sixty-nine  years,  and  he  died."  There  is  the  end  of 


DEATH.  597 

it.  "And  he  died."  Such  is  the  frailty  of  this 
boasted  man.  "It  is  appointed  unto  men"  —unto  all 
men  —  "once  to  die."  No  matter  what  station  of 
honor  we  hold,  we  are  all  subject  to  death. 

As  in  chess-play,  so  long  as  the  game  is  playing, 
all  the  men  stand  in  their  order  and  are  respected 
according  to  their  places  —  first  the  king,  then  the 
queen,  then  the  bishops,  after  them  the  knights,  and 
last  of  all  the  common  soldiers ;  but  when  onc-e  the 
game  is  ended  and  the  table  taken  away,  then  they 
•are  all  confusedly  tumbled  into  a  bag,  and  haply  the 
king  is  lowest  and  the  pawn  upmost.  Even  so  it  is 
with  us  in  this  life ;  the  world  is  a  huge  theatre,  o; 
stage,  wherein  some  play  the  parts  of  kings,  others 
of  bishops,  some  lords,  many  knights,  and  others 
yeomen ;  but  death  sends  all  alike  to  the  grave  and  to 
the  judgment. 

Death  comes  equally  to  us  all  and  makes  us  all 
-equal  when  it  comes.  The  ashes  of  an  oak  in  a 
^chimney  are  no  epitaph  of  that,  to  tell  me  how  high 
t)r  how  large  that  was ;  it  tells  me  not  what  flocks  it 
sheltered  when  it  stood,  nor  what  men  it  hurt  when 
it  fell.  The  dust  of  great  men's  graves  is  speechless 
too:  it  says  nothing;  it  distinguishes  nothing.  "As 
•soon  the  dust  of  a  wretch  whom  thou  wouldst  not, 
as  of  a  prince  whom  thou  couldst  not  look  upon,  will 
trouble  thine  eyes  if  the  wind  blow  it  thither ;  and 
when  a  whirlwind  hath  blown  the  dust  of  a  church- 
yard into  a  church,  and  the  man  sweeps  out  the 
-dust  of  the  church  into  the  church-yard,  who  will 


598  DEATH. 

undertake  to  sift  those  dusts  again  and  to  pro-> 
nounce:  This  is  the  patrician,  this  is  the  noble- 
flower,  and  this  is  the  yeoman,  and  this  is  plebeian, 
bran  ?" 

Look  at  that  hero,  as  he  stands  on  an  eminence 
and  covered  with  glory.  He  falls  suddenly,  forever 
falls.  His  intercourse  with  the  living  world  is  now- 
ended,  and  those  who  would  hereafter  find  him  must; 
seek  him  in  the  grave.  There,  cold  and  lifeless,  is. 
the  heart  which  just  now  was  the  seat  of  friendship ; 
there,  dim  and  sightless,  is  the  eye  whose  radiant  and. 
enlivening  orb  beamed  with  intelligence ;  and  there, 
closed  forever,  are  those  lips,  on  whose  persuasive 
accents  we  have  so  often  and  so  lately  hung  with 
transport. 

From  the  darkness  which  rests  upon  his  tomb  there- 
proceeds,  methinks,  a  light,  in  which  it  is  clearly  seen 
that  those  gaudy  objects  which  men  pursue  are  only 
phantoms.  In  this  light,  how  dimly  shines  the  splen- 
dor of  victory  —  how  humble  appears  the  majesty  or 
grandeur !  The  bubble,  which  seemed  to  have  so 
much  solidity,  has  burst,  and  we  again  see  that  all. 
below  the  sun  is  vanity. 

True,  the  funeral  eulogy  has  been  pronounced,  the 
sad  and  solemn  procession  has  moved,  the  badge  of' 
mourning  has  already  been  decreed,  and  presently 
the  sculptured  marble  will  lift  up  its  front,  proud  to 
perpetuate  the  name  of  the  hero  and  rehearse  to  the 
passing  traveler  his  virtues — just  tributes  of  respect, 
and  to  the  living  useful  —  but  to  him,  moldering  in  hia 


DEATH.  599 

narrow  and  humble  habitation,  what  are  they?     How 
vain !  how  unavailing ! 

Approach,  and  behold,  while  I  lift  from  his  sepul- 
chre its  covering!  Ye  admirers  of  his  greatness — 
ye  emulous  of  his  talents  and  his  fame — approach 
and  behold  him  now.  How  pale!  how  silent!  No 
martial  hands  admire  the  adroitness  of  his  movements; 
no  fascinating  throng  weep,  and  melt,  and  tremble  at 
his  eloquence !  Amazing  change !  A  shroud,  a 
coffin,  a  narrow,  subterraneous  cabin! — this  is  all 
that  now  remains  of  the  hero  !  And  is  this  all  that 
remains  of  him  ?  During  a  life  so  transitory,  what 
lasting  monument,  then,  can  our  fondest  hopes  erect! 

We  stand  on  the  borders  of  an  awful  gulf,  which  is 
swallowing  up  all  things  human.  And  is  there, 
amidst  this  universal  wreck,  nothing  stable,  nothing 
abiding,  nothing  immortal,  on  which  poor,  frail,  dying 
man  can  fasten  ?  Ask  the  hero,  ask  the  statesman, 
whose  wisdom  you  have  been  accustomed  to  revere, 
and  he  will  tell  you.  He  will  tell  you,  did  we  say? 
He  has  already  told  you,  from  his  death-bed,  and  his 
illumined  spirit  still  whispers  from  the  heavens,  with 
well-known  eloquence,  the  solemn  admonition  :  "Mor- 
tals hastening  to  the  tomb,  and  once  the  companions 
of  my  pilgrimage,  take  warning  and  avoid  my  errors ; 
cultivate  the  virtues  I  have  recommended ;  choose  the 
Savior  I  have  chosen;  live  disinterestedly;  live  for 
immortality;  and  would  you  rescue  anything  from 
final  dissolution,  lay  it  up  in  God." 

Ah,  it  is  true  that  a  few  friends  will  go  and  bury  us ; 


600  DEATH. 

affection  will  rear  a  stone  and  plant  a  few  flowers  over 
our  grave ;  in  a  brief  period  the  little  hillock  will  be 
smoothed  down,  and  the  stone  will  fall,  and  neither 
friend  nor  stranger  will  be  concerned  to  ask  which 
one  of  the  forgotten  millions  of  the  earth  was  buried 
there.  Every  vestige  that  we  ever  lived  upon  the 
earth  will  have  vanished  away.  All  the  little 
memorials  of  our  remembrance  —  the  lock  of  hair 
encased  in  gold,  or  the  portrait  that  hung  in  our 
dwelling,  will  cease  to  have  the  slightest  interest  to 
any  living  being. 

We  need  but  look  into  the  cemetery  and  see  the 
ten  thousand  upturned  faces ;  ten  thousand  breathless 
bosoms.  There  was  a  time  when  fire  flashed  through 
those  vacant  orbs  ;  when  warm  ambitions,  hopes,  joys 
and  the  loving  life  pushed  in  those  bosoms.  Dreams 
of  fame  and  power  once  haunted  those  empty  skulls. 
The  little  piles  of  bones,  that  once  were  feet,  ran 
swiftly  and  determinedly  through  twenty,  forty,  sixty, 
seventy  years  of  life,  but  where  are  the  prints  they 
left?  He  lived  —  he  died — he  was  buried  —  is  all 
that  the  headstone  tells  us.  We  move  among  the 
monuments,  we  see  the  sculpturing,  but  no  voice 
comes  to  us  to  say  that  the  sleepers  are  remembered 
for  any  thing  they  have  done.  A  generation  passes 
by.  The  stones  turn  gray,  and  the  man  has  ceased 
to  be,  and  is  to  the  world,  as  if  he  had  never 
lived. 

Thus  is  life.  Only  a  few  years  do  we  journey  here 
and  we  come  to  that  bridge  —  Death  —  which  trans- 


DEATH.  001 

ports  us  as  the  road  we  have  traveled,  either  virtue, 
happiness  and  joy,  to  a  happy  paradise  of  love,  or 
the  road  of  passion,  lust  and  vice  to  destructive 
wretchedness. 

A  proper  view  of  death  may  be  useful  to  abate 
most  of  the  irregular  passions.  Thus,  for  instance, 
we  may  see  what  avarice  comes  to  in  the  coffin  of  the 
miser ;  this  is  the  man  who  could  never  be  satisfied 
with  riches ;  hut  see  now  a  few  boards  inclose  him, 
and  a  few  square  inches  contain  him.  Study  ambition 
in  the  grave  of  that  enterprising  man ;  see,  his  great 
designs,  his  boundless  expedients  are  all  shattered 
and  sunk  in  this  fatal  gulf  of  all  human  projects. 
Approach  the  tomb  of  the  proud  man ;  see  the 
haughty  countenance  dreadfully  disfigured,  and  the 
tongue  that  spoke  the  most  lofty  things  condemned  to 
eternal  silence.  Go  to  the  tomb  of  the  monarch,  and 
there  study  quality ;  behold  his  great  titles,  his  royal 
robes,  and  all  his  flatteries --all  are  no  more  forever 
in  this  world.  Behold  the  consequence  of  intemper- 
ance in  the  tomb  of  the  glutton ;  see  his  appetite  now 
fully  satiated,  his  senses  destroyed  and  his  bones 
scattered.  Thus  the  tombs  of  the  wicked  condemn 
their  practice  and  strongly  recommend  virtue. 

Death  reigns  in  all  the  portions  of  cur  time.  The 
autumn,  with  its  fruits,  provides  disorders  for  us,  and 
the  winter's  cold  turns  them  into  sharp  diseases ;  and 
the  spring  brings  flowers  to  strew  our  hearse ;  and  the 
summer  gives  green  turf  and  brambles  to  bind  upon 
our  graves.  Calentures  and  surfeit,  cold  and  agues 


602  DEATH. 

are  the  four  quarters  of  the  year,  and  all  minister  unto 
death.  Go  where  you  will  and  it  will  find  you.  Many 
dread  it  and  try  to  flee  from  it  as  the  king-  of  terrors. 

Is  he  an  enemy,  when  God  sends  him  to  deliver  us 
from  pains,  follies,  disappointments,  miseries  and  wo? 
Is  he  an  enemy,  who  transfers  us  from  delusive- 
dreams,  from  the  region  of  bubbles  and  corroding" 
cares,  to  a  region  where  all  is  pure,  substantial, 
enduring  joy  and  endless  felicity  ?  It  is  a  libel  on 
DEATH  to  call  him  our  foe,  a  king  of  terrors,  an 
enemy. 

Frail  man  comes  into  the  world  crying,  cries  on 
through  life,  and  is  always  seeking  after  some  desired 
thing  which  he  imagines  is  labeled  HAPPINESS,  or  is 
mourning  over  some  loss,  which  makes  him  miserable ;: 
a  restless  mortal  body,  with  an  immortal  soul,  that 
requires  something  more  than  earth  can  give  to  satisfy 
its  lofty  desires  ;  the  soul  that  hails  death  as  the  wel- 
come messenger,  to  deliver  it  from  its  ever  changing, 
ever  decaying  prison-house  of  clay,  called  man ;  on 
which   time  wages  a  perpetual  war;    whitening  his 
locks,  furrowing  his  cheeks,  stealing  his  ivory,  weak- 
ening his  nerves,  paralyzing  his  muscles,  poisoning- 
his  blood,  battering  his  whole  citadel,  deranging  the 
whole   machinery    of    life,   and   wasting-    his    mental 
powers ;  until  he  becomes  twice  a  child ;  and  then 
delivers  him  over  to  his  last  and  best  friend,  DEATH, 
who  breaks  the  carnal  bondage,  sets  the  imprisoned 
spirit    free,    closing  a    toilsome   career   of  infelicity; 
opening  the  door  of  immortal   happiness,  returning; 


DEATH.  603 

the  soul  to  its  own,  original,  and  glorious  home ;  to 
go  no  more  out  forever.  Not  to  become  familiar 
with  death,  is  to  endure  much  unnecessary  fear,  and 
add  to  the  myriads  of  the  other  imaginary  woes  of 
human  life. 

Death  to  them  that  be  God's  dear  children  is  no 
other  thing  than  the  despatcher  of  all  displeasure, 
the  end  of  all  travail,  the  door  of  desires,  the  gate  of 
gladness,  the  port  of  paradise,  the  haven  of  heaven, 
the  entrance  to  felicity,  the  beginning  of  all  blissful- 
ness.  It  is  the  very  bed  of  down  for  the  doleful 
bodies  of  God's  people  to  rest  in,  out  of  which  they 
rise  and  awake  most  fresh  and  lusty  to  everlasting 
life.  It  is  a  passage  to  the  Father,  a  chariot  to 
heaven,  the  Lord's  messenger,  a  going  to  our  home, 
a  deliverance  from  bondage,  a  dismission  from  war, 
a  security  from  all  sorrows,  and  a  manumission  from 
all  misery.  And  should  we  be  dismayed  at  it? 
Should  we  trouble  to  hear  of  it?  Should  such  a 
friend  as  it  be  unwelcome?  Death  is  but  life  to  a 
true  believer ;  it  is  not  his  last  day,  nor  his  worst  day, 
but  in  the  highest  sense  his  best  day,  and  the  begin- 
ning of  his  better  life.  A  Christian's  dying  day  will 
"be  his  enlarging  day,  when  he  shall  be  freed  from  the 
prison  in  which  he  has  long  been  detained,  and  be 
brought  home  to  his  Father's  house.  A  Christian's 
dying  day  will  be  his  resting  day,  when  he  shall  rest 
from  all  sin  and  care  and  trouble ;  his  reaping  day, 
when  he  shall  reap  the  fruit  he  has  sown  in  tears  and 
faith  ;  his  conquering  day,  when  he  shall  triumph  over 


604  DEATH. 

every  enemy,  and  even  death  itself  shall  die ;  his 
transplanting  day,  from  earth  to  heaven,  from  a 
howling-  wilderness  to  a  heavenly  paradise  ;  his  robing 
day,  to  put  off  the  old  worn  out  rags  of  flesh,  and 
put  on  the  new  and  glorious  robes  of  light;  his 
marriage  day;  his* coronation  day;  the  day  of  his 
glory,  the  beginning  of  his  eternal,  perfect  bliss  with 
Christ. 

We  at  death  leave  one  place  to  go  to  another ;  if 
godly  we  depart  from  our  place  here  on  earth,  and  go 
to  heaven ;  we  depart  from  our  friends  on  earth  and 
go  to  our  friends  in  heaven  ;  we  depart  from  the  valley 
of  tears  and  go  to  the  mount  of  joy ;  we  depart  from 
a  howling  wilderness  and  go  to  a  heavenly  paradise. 
Who  would  be  unwilling  to  exchange  a  Sodom  for  a 
Zion,  an  Egypt  for  a  Canaan,  misery  for  glory? 

What  a  superlatively  grand  and  consoling  idea  is 
that  of  death  !  Without  this  radiant  idea,  this  delight- 
ful morning  star,  indicating  that  the  luminary  of  eter- 
nity is  going  to  rise,  life  would,  to  our  view,  darken 
into  midnight  melancholy.  Oh,  the  expectation  of 
living  here,  and  of  living  thus  always,  would  be 
indeed  a  prospect  of  overwhelming  despair !  But 
thanks  be  to  that  fatal  decree  that  dooms  us  to  die ! 
thanks  to  that  gospel  which  opens  the  vision  of  an 
endless  life !  and  thanks,  above  all,  to  that  Savior 
friend  who  has  promised  to  conduct  all  the  faithful 
through  the  sacred  trance  of  death,  into  scenes  of 
paradise  and  everlasting  delight ! 

Oh,  that  all  may  be  prepared  for  this  awful  change, 


DEATH. 


but  how  often  we  hear  the  mournful  exclamation, 
"Too  late!"  from  men  who  come  up  to  the  doors  of  a 
bank  just  as  the  key  has  turned  in  the  lock  ;  or  up  to 
the  great  gates  of  a  railway  terminus  just  as  they 
swing  to,  and  tell  the  tardy  traveler  he  has  lost  his 
train  ;  or  up  to  the  post-office  just  as  the  mail  has 
been  despatched;  but  how  should  he  tremble  if  our 
ears  could  hear  the  despairing  cry  of  souls  whom  the 
stony  gaze  of  that  grim  messenger  has  fixed  in  sin 
forever.  How  would  our  hearts  thrill  with  horror  to 
accompany  one,  without  hope  of  heaven,  to  the  por- 
tals of  death.  How  do  men  dread  such  death  scenes 
as  that  of  a  young  skeptic  called  suddenly  from  time 
to  eternity.  "Begone!"  he  cried  to  the  clergyman; 
I  want  none  of  your  cant"  when  he  showed  him  the 
great  need  of  repentance.  "I  am  not  going  to  die  ; 
and  if  I  were  I  would  die  as  I  have  lived."  The  phy- 
sician came,  to  whom  he  said:  "Oh!  tell  me  I  am 
not  dying;  I  will  not  die!"  "My  poor  friend,  I  can- 
not speak  falsely  to  you;  your  soul  will,  ere  long,  be 
with  your  God."  "My  God!"  he  said,  "I  have  no 
God  save  the  world  ;  I  have  stifled  conviction,  I  have 
fought  against  God,  I  have  resisted  my  mother's 
pleadings,  and  now  you  tell  me  that  I  must  die.  Do 
you  know,"  he  added,  in  an  awful  whisper,  "all  that 
means?  If  I  die  to-day  I  shall  go  to  hell!  Take  it 
back;  tell  me  I'm  not  going  to  die.  Father,"  he 
said,  "t'was  you  who  taught  me  this;  you  led  me  on 
in  this  way,  and  now  you  say  I'm  to  die.  Stand 
back!"  he  shrieked;  "  /  will  not  die!"  and  a  torrent 


606  DEATH. 

of  invectives  issued  from  his  fever-parched  lips,  so 
terrible  in  their  madness  that  it  seemed  like  a  wail 
from  the  sea  of  woe.  No  wonder  the  poor  mother 
was  borne  fainting-  from  the  room,  and  the  father's 
brow  was  corrugated,  while  great  drops  of  agony 
rested  there.  Ah,  that  infidel  father !  how  must  his 
heart  have  bled  in  that  dreadful  hour,  when  in  the 
midst  of  dire  cursings,  his  gifted  son  fell  back  a 
corpse. 

What  a  striking  contrast  between  such  a  death  and 
the  following: 

One  of  Martin  Luther's  children  lay  on  her  death 
bed;  the  great  man  approached  her  and  said  to  her: 
"  My  little  daughter,  my  beloved  Margaret,  you  would 
willingly  remain  with  your  earthly  parents,  but  if  God 
calls  you,  you  will  go  with  your  heavenly  Father." 
"Yes,  dear  father,  it  is  as  God  pleases."  He  then 
said :  "  My  daughter,  enter  thou  into  thy  resting  place 
in  peace."  She  turned  her  eyes  toward  him  and  said, 
with  touching  simplicity,  "  Yes,  father."  How  resign- 
edly could  the  believing  Luther  part  with  his  dying 
child,  and  methinks  the  sentiment  of  his  heart  was 
very  like  the  inscription  on  a  child's  tombstone  in  an 
English  churchyard,  as  follows:  "'Who  plucked  that 
flower?'  cried  the  gardener,  as  he  walked  through 
the  garden.  His  fellow  servant  answered,  'The 
Master.'  And  the  gardener  held  his  peace." 

When  these  hands  of  ours  shall  be  pulseless  and 
cold,  and  motionless  as  the  grave  wherein  they  must 
lie;  when  the  damp,  dewy  vapors  shall  replace  "this 


DEATH. 


607 


sensible,  warm  motion,"  and  death  shall  spread  our 
couch  and  weave  our  shrouds ;  when  the  winding-- 
sheet shall  be  our  sole  vesture,  and  the  close-sealed 
sepulchre  our  only  home,  and  we  shall  have  no 
familiar  companions,  and  no  rejoicing  friends  but  the 
worm ;  O,  thou  cold  hand  of  death,  unlock  for  us  then 
the  portals  of  eternal  life,  that  whilst  our  bodies  rest 
in  their  beds  of  earth,  our  souls  may  recline  in  the 
bosom  of  God ! 

"Life !  we've  been  long  together, 
Through  pleasant  and  cloudy  weather  ; 
'Tis  hard  to  part  when  friends  are  dear  ; 
Perhaps  'twill  cost  a  sigh,  a  tear  ; 
Then  steal  away,   give  little  warning, 
Choose  thine  own  time  ; 

Say  not,  Good  night,  but  in  some  brighter  clime 
Bid  us  good  morning." 


THE    END. 


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